This wicked, wicked life of mine
by Acciolilliputian
Summary: Thomas wakes up in a bed - confused but not alone. As it turns out, his mother left him at Wicked - an all boys school with a very troublesome name. These walls seem to hide a lot of secrets, and more are to come. Prepare for mischief, angst and romance at Wicked - a school for unwanted boys. Rated T for language and future adventures.
1. awake

Thomas slowly opened his eyes and blinked hard a few times to the bright light that welcomed him back to the real world, the one outside his own mind. He felt dizzy, an odd kind of dizzy, one that resembled the unpleasantwoozy feeling that hits right after being punched in the head real hard with something pointy. Thomas could feel his thoughts jumping out of his skull in a mixture of confusion and pure panic, he could see them running all around the room, tearing everything apart.

Thomas wished he could do the same, he wished the bright light could stop blinding him, and that his head could just slow down and quit the trying-to-kill-him-part.

All he managed was to ball his hands into fists and push them into his eyes, rubbing not so gently, trying to punch some sense into his own body. _Where was he?_

When Thomas finally lowered his hands back to the mattress underneath him, the light had stopped being so blinding, and he could finally begin to make some sense of this weird situation.

He was clearly lying in a bed, he couldn't argue on that one. Moving his head only slightly, and terribly carefully, he took in the west side of the room, which turned out to be quite small. The walls were painted in a light green color, making him feel as if the one decorating this room wanted its inhabitants to feel as if being in a calm and light forest instead of in an actual room. The furniture was neatly placed along three of the walls around the bed Thomas was now resting in and was, along with both the ceiling and the floor, painted white. Thomas found the source of the bright light on the opposite wall, the east one. There was a huge window, swallowing most of the short wall, letting a whole lot of sunlight into the room.

There was a person standing in front of the window, clearly looking right at him. With the sunlight shining in behind the person, it looked more like a huge shadow than an actual human being. Judging by what Thomas tired eyes could pick up, he determined that the shadow was in fact a man, a huge man in all ways possible.

He was tall, the tallest man Thomas had ever seen, and also the broadest. His chest seemed to stretch out forever, accompanied by muscular shoulders and a thick throat. His whole body screamed of order and discipline, clearly something military. As Thomas watched, the man started walking towards him, quickly deleting the small amount of steps that had been present between them. The man looked even more terrifying up close, where Thomas could see every deep line in his scarred and broad face, see the popping veins in his thick arms.

"Thomas," he said, his voice being all dark and serious. He showed no emotion what so ever, his voice being flat and his body still. Thomas himself felt like creeping right out of his own skin, every inch of his body was itching with a strange sensation, one that he definitely didn't like. The man seemed to be waiting for a response, but all Thomas could bring himself to do was nod. So he did, which didn't seem to please the man. Well, he didn't seem to disapprove of it either. "Age sixteen. Breaking and entering, abuse, you tried to kill your stepdad, is that right, Thomas?" The man had a strange tone of amusement hiding in his hard and serious voice, and Thomas couldn't understand why. Not that he could do much of anything for the moment, his head was spinning in such speed that he strongly felt of vomiting.

The man had not yet managed to tare his eyes from Thomas's own, a hard glace with no sign of emotion, neither disapproval nor liking could be determined from his voice. Thomas felt utterly confused, the words had started a slow process inside his throbbing head, one that was now speeding. Memories connected to the words he had just heard began swimming up towards the point in his brain where they could be grasped and closely examined, Thomas tried reaching after them to see if what this man was saying were actually true. He ignored the screaming in his gut as he cached the first memory, this one consisting of only a few words connected with a burning rage that surprised him deeply. _Boy broke into stepdad's house with baseball bat, _words coming from a magazine.

She had sent him away.

"Where am I?" Thomas finally said, after what appeared to be a long moment of silence. The man still hadn't looked away and Thomas sincerely hoped that he couldn't see how much the boy's body was trembling with fear and confusion.

"_Wicked_," the voice was still as unrevealing as before, which started to annoy Thomas. "A school for troubled youngsters like yourself." The man turned his back and headed for the door, not giving Thomas a chance to ask about the upsetting and weird name of the school. "You'll meet the others soon, I'll send Alby to pick you up and give you a tour," he paused in the doorway and turned, as if he wanted to look at Thomas one last time before he disappeared. "Thomas, this is your new home. Don't fuck this up." The words were meant to be encouraging, but all Thomas felt was empty. And scared, utterly terrified to be correct. As the strange man left the room, Thomas let his head fall back on the pillow and allowed his eyes to fall shut. The consistent throbbing in his head led him into a dreamless sleep once again.

This time, he nearly wished he wouldn't wake up.


	2. tour

"Newbie! It's time to wake up!" the voice was extremely loud in Thomas ear, causing a moment of utter confusion. The sealing was so white it hurt to look at it, but the voice had sounded so urgent, Thomas didn't dare to close his eyes again, so instead he blinked a few times and turned his head towards the sound.

There was a boy standing beside his bed, his skin was dark and his expression matched the hardness in his voice. To the newly waked and venerable eye, he looked terrifying.

"Ye hearing bad? Get up, I said," the voice continued, a little lower now that the boy saw Thomas open eyes.  
By using all his willpower he managed to sit up, swing his legs over the side of the bed and once again meet the other boy's eyes.

"Are you Alby?" Thomas asked, remembering the name that man had given him earlier. The boy, Alby, nodded and rolled his eyes. Thomas hurried to stand up, the room spinning as he did so. The confusion was still present, taking up a huge part of his mind. "Who was that man?" he didn't know if Alby would understand him, but for the moment he didn't have enough power left for explanations.

The other boy was now standing at the end of the room, by the open door. He didn't seem to be waiting for Thomas, just coldly counted on him to follow. Thomas head was throbbing painfully with every step he took, a fact he was trying to ignore as he followed Alby out of the room and into a long corridor. This whole place seemed to be decorated in a nature-theme, the walls were painted to reassemble trees, and the sealing looked like a blue sky. Alby was walking with long, urgent steps in a speed Thomas had a hard time matching. The other boy stayed silent for a few moments before he spoke up to answer Thomas earlier question.

"Grossman, he's the manager of this place." Alby seemed to know exactly to whom Thomas was referring to, which was a relief. This corridor was very long and the tall boy in front of him took big steps, Thomas had to focus all his energy at keeping up. Alby clearly knew where he was going, which was good because Thomas felt lost.

Suddenly, they entered a huge staircase, bright light from the outside spilled in from the huge windows that covered the front of the building, making the white steps shine. It seemed like all different floors were joined together here, and as it turned out they were currently on the second floor. A sign hung on the wall next to the exit, telling Thomas that this was the infirmary, making him wonder what kind of school this was that needed one entire floor for injuries.

He was suddenly woken from his thoughts as a loud shout echoed between the walls and floors. It was Alby's voice, clearly trying to catch the attention of someone higher up in the building. "Newt!" he screamed, his eyes focused on a spot a few floors up. How high was this building? "Newt! We've got ourselves a new Greenie!" a light smile played with the older boy's mouth, his eyes shined with a kind of mischief that made Thomas slightly nervous. He joined the other boy out on the plateau in the huge rectangular staircase and looked up, trying to get a glimpse of what might be hiding upstairs. Slowly, Alby turned towards him, the hint of a grin had escaped his face, instead he looked just as serious and bored as he did the first time Thomas saw him. This made him silently wonder if this boy even knew how to laugh. It didn't seem like it.

"Dining hall, gym and Grossman's office is downstairs. Griever's as well, so if you wanna live, shank head, don't turn right down these stairs," Alby's voice had a scary tone to it, one that made Thomas promise himself that he would never, under any circumstances, turn right at the ground floor. But still, he couldn't help but ask.

"What's a Griever?" his voice sounded raw from not being used, his throat hurt a little from even making the sounds. Alby gave his question a hard look and started climbing the steps towards the next floor. "The janitor," came as an answer, and Thomas felt like he didn't need to know anything else, the two words that Alby had used spoke for themselves. "Down on that side, you'll find the teacher's quarters," he pointed downwards, towards the other side of the staircase on the floor they had just left. "And here you have your classes," he stopped on the plateau splitting the left and right side of the third floor and pointed a finger in both directions, not bothering to tell Thomas any details before he headed up another flight of stairs. "Newt! You shank head, get down here!" Alby's voice echoed between the walls, making Thomas jump. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to meet this Newt kid, if he hung out with people like Alby, big and absolutely terrifying, Thomas thought he might pass.

"What classes will I take?" he couldn't stop the questions from jumping out of his mouth, this whole experience was just so bizarre, and by asking questions he hoped it all would start making at least a little sense. "Are the teachers any good? Won't it be weird for me to join you in the middle of a semester?" his own voice bounced toward the steps ahead of him. There were many steps, many stairs, and Thomas's legs were already shaking from exhaustion. His body was still weak, his mind still spinning. It didn't matter how much he tried, he still couldn't recall the incident that had brought him here, an upsetting thought.

An irritated sigh escaped Alby's lips as he came to rest upon the plateau of the fourth, and clearly last, floor. "The regular I guess, no, and no – classes have barely started," he paused and folded his arms to his chest. "This is the dorms, and the common room is here," he waved his hand toward a huge room at the left side of the staircase. "You'll be sleeping down this hall, sharing room with Chuck," Alby gave a small laugh as he said the boy's name, it sounded almost like a bark, like something he rarely used.

Alby started walking into the corridor on their left, the same corridor that Thomas would be sleeping in. To get to the dorms, you had to cross the common room, which turned out to be a huge space filled with sofas, a TV where some boys were playing videogames, a table where some were busy playing cards and a small bookshelf filled with colorful books. The corridor on the other side was smaller than the one they had been walking down before, but not any shorter. It ended with a great window, the sunlight colored the wooden floor and seemed to be the only source of light for the moment.

Alby stopped by the second door to the right and banged it hard with both of his fists before he flung it open. Thomas tried to peak over his shoulder, but without succeeding, the boy's broad shoulders blocked the view.

"Newt! You made me do the whole bloody tour by my own!" Alby shouted into the room. Thomas could hear a rumble, almost like someone falling of a bed, and before he knew it, a blond head appeared in the doorway. The other boy, who had to be Newt, peaked over Alby's shoulder before pushing him aside completely, stepping out into the faint light in the corridor. He was a bit taller than Alby, but his boy build was nothing near as terrifying as his friends. While Alby looked like he could pick Thomas up and throw him away as easily as one can throw a paper plane, Newt looked as if he would crumble and collapse by just thinking the thought. He had long legs and a thin torso, accompanied with a set of small shoulders and a long neck, he looked like a young tree. A short laugh escaped from the new boy's mouth as he let his green eyes sweep over Thomas's body.

"As if ye can't handle a bloody tour by yerself," Newt said, clearly to Alby, and when he continued he had his eyes locked with Thomas's. "So ye're the new Greenie, welcome to hell." He wore a small smile, Thomas couldn't determine if he was being serious or not. "I guess this shank head didn't even bother givin' ye a proper showing of this place, we'll take care of that tomorrow." He shrugged his shoulders and started walking down the corridor, only to stop a few doors down. Newt mimicked Alby's behavior when knocking on this other door, causing a slight tumult to occur on the other side of the dark wood. The walls in this corridor were painted green as well, the sealing blue. Thomas still felt as if he was trapped inside a huge forest and wondered if he would ever see a real one again. Luckily, before he could let his thoughts grow even more depressing, the door in front of him flew open and revealed a slightly younger boy, at the age of twelve or thirteen, in the doorway. His black curly hair was tangled in one enormous mess and his round cheeks seemed to be stuffed with crackers, judging by the crumbs on his shirtfront.

"Yeah?" the young boy said, and then his eyes caught sight of Thomas, standing awkwardly in the background. "A greenie?" he asked, excitement filling his voice.  
"Don't piss yourself, Chuck," Alby said from the background, but Chuck didn't seem to hear him. Newt gave his friend a hard stare before he spoke up. "Thomas, Chuck," he waved his hand between them before he turned to Chuck again. "I guess ye ain't the Greenie anymore, shank," he even smiled a little as he said so. Thomas still hadn't figured out their way of speaking, they all seemed to have a bit of an accent he couldn't quite place, even though Newt's was extreme, and they used words he'd never heard before. Like shank, and Greenie. Thomas sighed inwardly, another new place, another new way of life to learn. Even though he had to admit that he hadn't quite felt this kind of excitement at any of the other schools he had attended, which was clearly saying something.

"Well, I'm starved. Let's see if this newbie can find his way to the dining," Newt said and gave Thomas a hard pat on the shoulder, hinting something of a smile as he did so. Thomas couldn't help but wonder why a guy like Newt had ended up in a place like this. And frankly, he wasn't even sure he wanted to know.


	3. shanks

I've forgotten to write the obvious: I do not own The Maze Runner, the characters or anything.

And I would love to hear from you, to kow what your beautiful minds think about this little story of mine! And thank you to those who've already given me some kind words. All my love to you, darlings!

Now, enjoy chapter 3!

* * *

"They call this their charity project," Newt said and took a bite of his ham and cheese sandwich, not sounding as if he were talking about a good cause. The humorous light in his eyes seemed to have faded away completely, leaving a distant glance that made the older boys green eyes look even deeper and more profound.

Eventually, Thomas had remembered that the dining hall was situated at the ground floor, and now they were all sitting around a table in the outskirts of the grand room, a huge window to the left revealing nothing but a green lawn. Thomas couldn't quite let go of his earlier thought, what had really brought all these kids here? He turned his head slightly and looked at the younger boy at his side. Had Chuck really been able to do something so bad that his parents chose to send him away? Thomas felt oddly empty inside, a deep sorrow spread between his ribs and concurred all of his insides. What kind of mother would send her own son away for no good reason at all?

"I've been 'ere the longest, me and some other shanks. Two years now," he tried to kill a huge yawn without succeeding, instead his face became overrun by fatigue, every line in his expression seemed to deepen which gave the boy an even older appeal. Newt shrugged his shoulders and let his eyes wander, looking at nothing in particular but still refusing to meet Thomas glance. He felt sorry for the boy, he really did, but couldn't help but once again wonder why he was here. As if Newt could read his mind, he changed the subject in a hurry.

"Anyways, I think ya gonna like this place. Lot of strange stuff happening 'ere," he smiled as he spoke, as if these walls were clothed with precious secrets, ghosts of former terrors and pranks wandered up and down these hallways.

Thomas felt a jolt of surprise as his body was filled with a peculiar mixture of excitement and jealousy. It was clear that these boys knew each other well, they had spent a couple of years together. Thomas was a newbie, he did not belong here. Yet.  
He forced a smile, and as he lifted the corners of his mouth upward he felt it growing more and more genuine and true.

Newt laughed, he threw his head a bit upward and let a short laugh escape his throat.  
"Well, speak of the devil, 'ere he comes! The biggest klunkhead of 'em all!"

Thomas turned his body around in his seat and scanned the room. His glace quickly found its way to one particular boy, one strong boy with dark hair and slightly darker skin. His body built spoke of many miles in the track and long hours with heavy weights, his jean shirt stretched a little over his shaped chest, a pair of black pants hung loosely from his hips. Thomas's brain quickly labeled him, no prejudices aside, as a hot Asian. The thought was laughable, and most of all embarrassing. Thomas tried to shake it off before the guy reached their table, but was not quick enough.

Up close, his hair looked like satin. His eyes were more of a gold brown than a dark and troublesome brown. But one could not miss the wicked spark that added that extra shine.  
The reason why Thomas did notice all of these things about this particular boy was because he had decided to sit his ass down right next to Thomas on the bench.

"Man, I'm starved," he said and looked greedily at his own sandwich.

Newt, on the other side of the table, laughed, a barking sound and nothing alike the sounds of excitement and pleasure he had made by the sight of the other boy.  
"Mihno, ye blind klunk, this is Thomas, our freshest newbie," a broad smile decorated his thin lips. "And Thomas, this is Mihno. The biggest slinthead ever set foot on this place," he kept his eyes fixed on the black haired boy and kept his smile from fading. Thomas assumed that they had known each other for quite some time.

"Don't forget to mention that I'm also the best looking one," Mihno said and grinned. There was a hand stretched out in the small area of nothingness that separated Thomas from the Asian boy, it took a few seconds before Thomas realized that he was supposed to shake it.

"Welcome to the hellhole, greenie," Mihno said as he used his right hand to grip Thomas's. It was a weird sensation that spread from Mihno's long fingers and up through Thomas's arm. He let go as quickly as he could, without being rude.

"That's the second time I've heard someone call this hell," Thomas pointed out, remembering the welcome he had gotten from Newt.  
The three boys around him smiled, looking somewhat manic. _What is this place? Is it something in the food making everyone mad?_

"Some call it Wicked, we call it Hell, simple as that," Mihno said, a hint of a smile played with one side of his mouth as he took a huge bite of his sandwich.

"It all depends on from which perspective you see things from," came another voice, one that Thomas did recognize, but had not heard during their lunch break. Alby had come to sit down on the other side of Newt, the side that was not already occupied by Chuck.

"Why?" Thomas asked as he witnessed Alby steal one of Newt's potato chips and pop it into his own mouth before his friend had snatched it back.  
Newt abandoned attempting to stop Alby, instead he moved his lunchtray a bit further away and locked eyes with Tomas.

"'Cause it is hell," he answered, as if that would be enough, which it clearly wasn't, a feeling that Thomas emitted by putting on a confused frown.

Alby sighed and gave up trying to steal from his blond friend and devoted all of his attention to Thomas and his question.  
"You see that shank over there?" he nodded his head towards a table at the other end of the room where a group of boys about the same age as himself were sitting. "The blond one," Alby continued, making it easier for Thomas to know which of the boys he was talking about.

The blond one turned out to be quite huge, big bones and probably a lot of muscles hiding underneath the blue thin shirt he had draped around his torso. Thomas couldn't quite make out any specific features from this distance, but what he could make out was the other boy's voice. It was thick and raspy, full of that kind of authority that doesn't fit with a child.

"What about him?" as Thomas spoke, the blond turned his thick neck towards him and for just a second, the two boys locked eyes before Thomas quickly turned his glance away, afraid that staring might just provoke the other boy, something he didn't really felt like doing on his first day.

"His name is Gally," Mihno said, his mouth full of sandwich. The act of talking with his mouth full earned a kick on the shin from his friend on the other side of the table, Newt. Mihno grunted and kept quiet, devoted all of his attention towards the food still left on his tray. So Alby spoke up instead.  
"He think he owns this place."

"And I guess that you guys don't agree," Thomas said, picking up the apple on his tray and took one big bite. At least he couldn't complain on the food.

"Of course not," Mihno said, not able to contain himself. This time his mouth was not filled with food, so the bruise on his shin remained alone.

"Then who is?" Thomas was no longer able to control the questions from jumping out of his mouth, his excitement had been building up inside of him all day, and now the cup was full, the water was spilling over the edge.

Mihno was about to open his mouth, but Chuck was quicker. The younger boy had kept quiet all this time, devoting all of his attention towards the lunch on the table in front of him.

"Principal Grossman, of course," he looked up, that round face of his was calm, full of that childish glow that Thomas's own had lost some years ago. "And the Griever, can't forget the Griever," he continued before taking a sip from his apple juice.

"Speak of the devil," Newt said and moved his eyes towards the doorway where a thin man now had appeared. He reminded Thomas of a gray rat, it was like all life and color had escaped him, a dusty aura surrounded him and seemed to poison the air in the entire room.

"The janitor?" Thomas asked, remembering that Alby had mentioned the name before.

"Don't look at him," Mihno said and shot Thomas a humorous look. His eyes had a mischievous glance, one that woke something up inside of Thomas, something he had not felt in quite some time.

"Rule number one is to never look into the eyes of the enemy," Alby said, clearly not as amused as his friend, but his voice was not as stern as before.

"The enemy?" Thomas echoed, feeling a bit confused. Or, he felt _more _confused than before, which made him fear that this state of mind would become something chronical.

"Yes, the enemy. We're at bloody war," Newt said, describing the situation at a very frightening way. But still, that tingling feeling in the pit of Thomas's stomach grew bigger at these words, he could not wait to be a part of this great thing.


	4. griever

Thanks, again, for your kind reviews!

So, the next chapter! I am so sorry to say that it will take a while before you get the fifth, unfortunately. I am going away for the holidays and won't have any time to write until I come back. But I promise that the next chapter will contain not only the boys first adventure, but also some light Thomas and Mihno action... So don't go anywhere, darlings!

* * *

"Cute little club you've got goin' on 'ere," came another voice, once again from behind Thomas. Lunch had dragged out longer than he had expected, apparently both Newt and Alby had a thing for staying at the lunchtable, talking, joking, messing around.

Mihno had left a while ago to go training. Apparently, Thomas was right when he assumed the other boy spent a lot of time both in the gym and in the track. The big forest surrounding the school was perfect for running around with maps and chasing the next control point, something Mihno and the rest of the school's team was quite good at doing.

Chuck had left around the same time, apparently being a few years younger than everybody else meant studying on a Sunday. So there was only Thomas, Alby and Newt left at the table. Well, not for long, because there was that voice as well.

Thomas turned around to trace the voice, try to see who it was that had approached their little club.  
As it turned out, there were actually two people standing there, two people who were moving fast and, without asking, took the liberty to take place on either side of Thomas on his bench.

"Glad you could join us, gentlemen," Alby said and looked the two boys in the eye. Judging by the looks he gave them, and that hint of a smile he did, these two were not the enemy.

"Eager to see our little greenie for yerselves, aren't ye?" Newt smile and nodded towards Thomas, who all of a sudden felt like all light was directed at him, blinding him.

"Well, well," the boy to his left said. His skin was dark and his body robust, but not in a scary way like Gally, more in a way that made Thomas decide that this was the guy to call if he ever wanted to redecorate his room.

"That shuck 's Frypan. Or, that's what we call 'im," Newt kept on smiling, nodding slightly at the guy who was apparently called Frypan, an odd name for a dude, in Thomas's opinion.

"Why?" he asked, addressing the newly introduced boy, who smiled at the comment.

"Because I once hit a dude over the head with one," he said and introduced us all to a big bag of potatochips. Thomas looked at him, his eyes big for two reasons. One: had he really misjudged this guy so badly? Had he really hit someone with a frypan? And second, how on earth did he get that bag of chips?  
But Thomas was the only one who reacted with fear or surprise to both of these factors, because the other boys around the table just laughed.

"Let's just say that the people in the kitchen really like me," Frypan said and offered Thomas a chips, one he gladly accepted. He then turned to the boy on his other side, waiting for Newt to introduce even this one.

"And that's Winston," Newt said, as expected, his mouth full of chips, something that earned a small it on the arm from his friend. What Newt responded with, Thomas did not see, because he had turned his head to the boy called Winston.

"Well, at least you have a normal name," he said and gave Winston a little smile. Winston turned out to be a rather skinny one, his face long and thin, his hair and eyes a very dark shade of brown. He had big dark eyebrows as well, but despise of that, he actually looked rather nice.

"And yours is?" he asked, extending a hand for Thomas to shake, which he gladly did.

"Thomas," there was not the same tingling feeling running through his bones at Winston's touch, not at all like the handshake he had shared with Mihno an hour ago. Still, Thomas was not slow on letting the other boy's hand go.

"So, this school's got an orienteering team?" Thomas asked, watching as the other boys stuffed their faces with chips and smiled sheepishly. The dining hall was now empty, except for their table, and Thomas could not help but wonder where they all went. Did all boys do their homework on a Sunday, or was that just Chuck? Or maybe that orienteering team was more popular than Thomas had first thought it was.

"Yeah," Alby said. "Mihno's the captain and the best damn runner there is," he said it as if it was no big deal at all, something everybody knew. The other boys just shrugged their shoulders, didn't seem to care much.

"You see, on this school, they don't just teach us enough to give us a worthy education," Alby kept on talking, careful to swallow before he opened his mouth. The older boy seemed to be the only one at this place who actually had any manners, or at least the only one who cared about them. "We're assigned different tasks as well."

"Such as?" Thomas wondered if being a part of the orienteering team was one of those tasks. In that case, he really wanted to know what the other ones were.

"Mihno and some other guys are on the orienteering and whatever more they do I don't know. Frypan and Winston here work in the kitchen, that Gally guy is a builder, we've got some sloppers and some med-jacks…" Alby trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.

"I didn't understand a word you were just saying," Thomas announced, looking as confused as he felt.

"Don't worry, love, you'll get there," Newt said, grinning. The other boys laughed at the nickname, apparently already starting to assume that Thomas wasn't one of the brightest kids at this place. He decided not to care about it just yet.

"Grossman is the principal of this place…" Thomas began, stopped only to take a breath and give time for Frypan to say "Scary dude" before continuing. "… and the Griever is the janitor?" he was still not really sure on how to use that nickname. Griever? What was that supposed to mean?

"Maybe ye aren't as thickheaded as we thought ye were, after all," Newt said, leaning forward on the bench, placing his elbows on the table to steady himself. He was still grinning, something he seemed to do a lot. At least when Alby was around, a thought that made Thomas want to grin, an impulse he carefully fought back.

"So, tell me about some of that mischief you were talking about earlier," Thomas said. He could feel his eyes shining with curiosity. Whatever was going on on this school, he wanted in on it.

The other boys stopped laughing, their open mouths turned to broad grins. If one would describe how the word mischief looked, this would be it.  
Alby had opened his mouth to speak, utter the words Thomas so dearly wanted to hear, but quickly closed it again. Apparently, there was once again someone standing behind his own back. He was getting really tired of this and decided, on the spot, to never sit with his back facing the dining hall area again.

Slowly, he turned around. There was a man standing there, not another boy, a man. He looked really gray and dirty in a very disgusting way. Not like he had been working all day in some place with a lot of dust, more like he hadn't showered in two weeks. His grey hair was greasy, his skin dull and body thin. One could say that it was nothing healthy about his appearance, at all.

"Well, well," he said and flashed a crooked grin, his watery eyes shining in a very troublesome way. "Grossman told me about you," he continued and with those words leaned closer to Thomas. He smelled like sour sponges and strong soap, a very curios mixture. "New meat."

Thomas didn't know what to say, so he kept quiet, waiting for the janitor to keep on talking. And he didn't have to wait long.

"I just wanted to introduce myself and let you memorize my face," he smiled even bigger and looked even more disgusting and sinister. "So you'll know who to be afraid of."

Thomas frowned, clearly confused. Afraid of the janitor?

This janitor was now leaning against his broom, still smiling. To Thomas he didn't look terrifying, just disgusting. This was nothing he said out loud.

"Because if I catch your skinny ass doing mischief…" the janitor didn't finish his sentence, he just left it hanging in the air, just like one of those threats you see in gangster movies.

"Yeah, yeah, nice talk, mr. Janitor," Newt said, his eyebrows pulled together and his forehead wrinkled. The janitor, the Griever, gave him a sour look and waved one of his long crooked fingers in the air at the blond boy, but did not open his mouth again. Instead, he took his broom and walked past their table towards the exit of the room.

"What the hell was that?" Thomas breathed as soon as the Griever had left.

"That, Tommy-boy," Newt said between fits of laughter, "was the Griever."

The other boys were laughing as well, but Thomas only felt confused.

"And I guess he has no reason what so ever to assume that I will be up to any mischief…?"

"Don't fool yourself," Frypan said and ate the last of the chips that were left in the bag. "You won't get away."

They all laughed, Thomas frowned.

"It's Sunday," Newt said.

"Sunday, bloody Sunday," Frypan added, grinning.

"It's the night to unleash yer worst pranks, Tommy-boy," the tone Newt was using had something dangerous to it, something that made Thomas's blood run even faster, his mind racing with excitement.

This was exactly what he had been waiting on.


	5. soda

Aloha darlings! Thank you for waiting, I hope it was worth it! Sorry, I know I promised some mayhem in this chapter, but that will be in the next instead. I got so caught up in something else... Hope you'll enjoy!

* * *

"Classes will start tomorrow."

Thomas was sitting in the common room, a set of cards jammed in his hand and a serious expression on his face. He was currently very close to losing a game of cards, something he did not want to do on his first night at the school. His opponent, Newt, did seem to be pleased with himself, a grin had started to spread and lighten up his face with every new round.

Now Alby's body was filling up the seat next to the blond boy, wearing an exhausted expression, his eyes resting steadily on Thomas's concentrated face.

"Classes?" the thought of this place actually being a real school had somehow escaped his mind. It seemed strange that all of these kids would eventually sit jammed up in one small classroom and actually stay quiet long enough to learn anything. The scene around Thomas at this moment just helped to strengthen this thought, because the common room was filled with chaos. It was hard to even hear your own thoughts.

"Yes, classes. This is actually a school, believe it or not," Alby said and picked up Newts soda and took a small sip.

"Hey!" Newt said, almost smacking his friend over the head, but since that would result in his soda getting lost forever, he contained himself and chose to give Alby an angry look and some not so kind words instead.

"What kind of classes?" Thomas asked and witnessed how some of the cards on the table in front of him got themselves a shower when Newt finally managed to snatch his soda back, some of it spilling over the edge and splashing the table.

"You know, school classes," Alby said and shrugged his shoulders. Once again there was a concerned and stern look on his face, as if he once again hid inside that shell of his. "English, calc, history, that kind of shit, you know."

All of the cards were on the table and Newt was no longer in his chair. He was standing up, a triumphant look on his face accompanied with a huge grin.

"And he does it again, slinthead!"

Thomas sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair, threw his last cards on the table and reached for his own soda, feeling suddenly oh so tired. He felt even more exhausted when he realized his soda was no longer present.

Confused, he looked around in the common room for the thief, but could see no one looking suspicious enough. There was chaos around him, beautiful chaos. Boys sat in front of the TV, shouting and screaming as they fought for their lives on the screen. Some was hanging out in the sofas at the other end of the room, different sodas in hand and foul words and lousy arguments in their mouths and in the air between them.

Thomas could spot the blond guy, Gally, as one of the boys in the sofa. He was hard to miss, since he was the loudest of them all, his jaw open and eyes wide. Chuck was playing videogames, screaming and shouting at the screen. But there was one guy missing.

Newt had once again sat down in his chair, leaning back with his hands behind his head, a satisfied expression pulling at his face. He and Alby seemed to be discussing something humorous, or at least something that made Alby flash some of his rare smiles.  
Mihno was no one to be seen, which immediately made Thomas suspicions.

"Missing something, greenie?" The voice came from behind his back, from the wall covered with bookshelves.

Thomas turned around in his chair, only to find the missing boy grinning at him, soda in hand. Mihno's black satin hair was still wet, probably from showering after his hours on in the tracks around the school grounds. His dark eyes were shining, and Thomas was not sure if it was the light playing with him, or if Mihno was in a very mischievous mood. Either way, he had to look away in order to control the raging feeling in his stomach, a feeling he really didn't want to know what it really meant.

"Is that my soda?" Thomas asked, feeling a bit stupid since that fact was obvious. But the sight of the boy in front of him made him speechless, his tongue felt heavy and strangely numb. Annoyance filled every fiber in his body, resulting in him standing up to stretch his limb, trying to shake the feeling away and get it out of his system.

"Of course it is your soda, shuckface," Mihno said and lifted the said thing to his lips, took a small sip and dropped that small grin of his.

"Well, can I get it back?" Thomas wondered, standing a few feet away from Mihno, not sure if the guy was mocking him or actually bullying him.

"Why are you here, Thomas?" Mihno asked, causing Thomas to stop dead in his tracks. Mihno wore no facial expression at all, his face blank and mouth closed. That soda in his hand was nothing but a reason to get Thomas's attention, he realized that now, a few moments to late.

"Why do you ask?" he said, trying to get away from it all, trying to come up with something so that he wouldn't be forced to answer. Because he didn't know what to say. He had never felt so lost.

"Curiosity," came as an answer, short and brutally honest. "Did your mommy and pappy leave poor shuckface here when they got sick of his shuck face?" There it was again, that mocking tone, that brutality. Thomas felt a slight wave of shock run through his body, the result of that harshness.

"Not really," Thomas said, finally managing to make his feet move again, stepping a little bit closer, trying to snatch the soda from the other boys hand and just get this whole thing over with. Of course he did not succeed, what had he expected, really?

Mihno wore a smug smile, that mischievous light had not yet left his eyes, it was still present and constantly increasing, shining even brighter and casting an even bigger spell on Thomas, one he didn't want to admit he was a slave to. Judging by the look on Mihno's face, he failed miserably. He wore a smile, an intoxicating smile.

Thomas felt like the main character in some cheesy love story, falling in love with the mysterious guy on the very first page.  
Except, Thomas wasn't in love.  
But he was under some sort of spell. It was painful. Really painful, especially since Mihno was closing in on him, moving a few steps closer.

Thomas could feel the smell of his skin, the intoxicating smell of soap and fire and gunpowder, a mixture of poison and cherry, he wanted to step closer and run his fingers down Mihno's strong arms, but as the same time he wanted to turn around and run, run and never come back.

He did neither of these things. Instead, he remained frozen where he was, breathing in the toxic air even further.  
Mihno's breath warmed his face, making the tiny hairs on his arm stand up and almost bend over. He could not continue breathing, not continue thinking.

"Either way, welcome to hell," Mihno's voice was a low whisper, barely auditable, but just loud enough for Thomas to catch every word. "I'm glad your parents didn't want to," coming from his mouth, this insult sounded like something intimate. Thomas shuddered, he hoped Mihno didn't catch it. He was sure the other boy did.

Thomas had to put tight restrains on himself, he had to fight hard not to do anything stupid. All his hands wanted to do was touch Mihno's bare arms, all his fingers wanted to do was find their way to underneath the black woolen shirt and tease the skin on his stomach, all his lips wanted to do was to kiss that pulse point of his, feel life run underneath his own mouth.

"The time 'as come, lovebirds, let's go and cause some mayhem."

Thomas gasped and took a step back, struggled to not lose his balance, to remain standing. Behind him, Newt had a big grin on his lips, a big mocking grin that Thomas really wanted to just punch away. He did not dare to look at Mihno, so instead he faced the boy by Newt's side, looked at Alby for support or distraction.

"What's the plan?"


	6. mayhem

Aloha darlings! Thank you for staying with me, and welcome to all you new people who've found this little story of mine! I have decided to try to update once a week, at least now while I'm trying to write NaNoWriMo...  
I hope you'll enjoy this chapter even though I was not quite pleased with it...

* * *

The corridor was silent, a pressing darkness tore at the boy's features and blurring the edges. Thomas had trouble following them since he could not quite see them. The only source of light the fellow students had was the moonlight shining in through the high windows. Ironic and very cheesy, Thomas thought. They had a mission, and the moon was watching them, guarding over them, he hoped. He also hoped none of the other boys were mind readers, because otherwise he would never get his dignity back.

He did not understand the plan, honestly, he just followed the others. He was also lost, but tried to not pay any attention to that matter. It was a small thorn in his side, though, not knowing the way back, not having an escape plan if things went rouge. He wasn't really comfortable with putting his faith and safety in the hands of these boys since they were in fact mad. Thomas was sure now, they were indeed mad, crazy, wicked. He grew more and more certain of this fact the deeper into the school they got.

This was apparently something they did every Sunday night, they said it was something sacred with this whole mission, it was supposedly something like blessing each weak. These boys didn't pray, they took the matter into their own hands and played God, just for one night.  
They were running down a set of stairs now, the big stairs he had climbed a few times in this day alone. The boys were surprisingly quiet, really like thieves in the night.

Another corridor, one he had not yet visited. There was a lot of doors here, white doors with a small window. Some of the blinders were pulled shut, but some were left open, revealing whatever was hiding inside. Thomas wished he had a flashlight, because there were no actual windows here, no moonlight guiding him, watching over him. He was close to tripping over his own feet a couple of times, but managed to regain his balance.

Suddenly, his body slapped into something hard, something that had without warning appeared in his path. His breath nearly got knocked out of him, by miracle he remained his balance. The wall in front of him made a surprised sound, a displeased noise which was close to a snarl.

"Watch it, shuchface," it was Mihno's voice.

Thomas was close to blurting out a quick _sorry, _but decided not to. There was a hand on his wrist, resting with ease, sending enormous sparks of electricity through his body. The hand belonged to the boy in front of him, it belonged to the boy with the satin hair and the rock hard body.

His eyes got used to the darkness much quicker now when they were standing still. Mihno was standing next to him, having let go of his wrist, the other boy was now leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Newt was next to him, his long blond hair pushed behind his ears and his eyes glowing faintly with excitement. He was watching the dark skinned boy by the door. Alby was standing close to one of the weird doors, it took Thomas a few seconds before he realized the older boy was trying to pick the lock.

He made a small noise of excitement as the door swung open, ready to let them in, unknowing of the boy's true intentions.

Behind the door was a classroom, a rather small classroom with a huge whiteboard covering almost the entire wall to his right. In front of it was a bunch of benches with chairs, all organized in neat and very precise rows. In here, Thomas could see the moonlight again, there were similar windows like in the first hallway covering the opposite wall from the door they had just entered.

The plan became very clear to Thomas now. And he had to admit that the feeling he had in the pit of his stomach was an exciting one, an intoxicating one, one he was sure was an addicting one.

Newt was standing in front of him now, blocking his view of the room. He was holding something, something that turned out to be a thick pen with a green cap.

"Let's cause some mayhem, Tommy," there was a huge grin on his lips, giving him a grim look, the light from the outside world playing with the shadows in his face.

Mihno and Alby was already standing in front of the big whiteboard, pointing with their pens and arguing under their breath.

There was paint on his hands. In the faint light, it looked like blood. He felt like a warrior, a warrior coming back from battle.

They were laughing now, laughing loudly. Systematically, they had worked their way down the hall, picking every lock, painting every whiteboard, laughing their heads off, laughing even more loudly for every classroom.

Now they were running again. Their laughter was chasing them down the hallway, urging them to go even faster.

Up the stairwell, down the rest of the corridor to the now empty common room, high on mischief and the drunkenness of the night, the collapsed in the sofas, laughing and laughing and laughing.

"So you do this every Sunday night?" Thomas managed, looking at the other boys at his side. They were all smiling now, drinking the last of this nightly adventure.

"It's tradition," Alby said. He was on his feet now, helping Newt to his feet. Not until they started heading down the corridor, Thomas noticed the slight limp Newt had. He wanted to ask, wanted to know, but as the boys called out their good nights, he waved goodbye to the opportunity.

"Heading to bed?" Mihno asked, he was standing as well.

Thomas forced his tired body up from the comfortable sofa, realizing a horrible fact as he did so.

"Um, yeah, but there's one slight problem," they were walking further down the hallway, the same hallway where he had met Chuck for the first time.  
Mihno had stopped, waiting for him a few steps ahead.

"I've forgotten which room is mine," he finally admitted.

"You're staying with Chuck right?" Mihno kept walking, keeping Thomas by his side. He nodded, not sure if Mihno actually saw this gesture, but he did it anyway.

"My room is quite close to yours, then."

Thomas heart stopped, then jumped, then raced.

Mihno stopped. They were standing at the end of the long corridor of rooms, looking at one in particular, one that Thomas had a faint memory of being his.

"You have color in your hair, slinthead, make sure to get it out before class tomorrow, otherwise you'll get the blame. And we will not go down with you," Mihno raised a hand, traced his fingers through the colored part of Thomas's hair, sending massive shocks of electricity through his whole body, making it hard to resist the urge to cringle.

He lost his breath, he lost all reason. He lost it.

Mihno had his lips close to his ear, teasing his cheek with the warmth of his breath. Teasing the electricity, making it run wild.

"Make sure to clean yourself up nicely, greenie."

When he stepped away, Thomas already missed the heat his body had radiated, the promises and wild possibilities he had thrown at him, the fact that this whole thing – whatever it was – was truly new and certainly forbidden. It was intoxicating. It was thrilling.

He drew a deep breath, revealed that he could finally breathe again.

Mihno had left him alone in the corridor, alone and confused.

Alone and questioning.

Questioning himself.

Finally, he opened the door behind him and stepped in, stepped in to something new, stepped in to another beginning.

"Hey roomie!"

He nearly jumped out of his skin.


	7. boy

Aloha darlings! Just wanted to put this out there again: I do not own TMR, just playing around!

* * *

It turned out Chuck had been staying awake, waiting for him. Thomas gave him a shaky smile, an exhausted smile. All he wanted to do was escape his clothing and lie down in bed to play replay this day in his head. It had all began catching up with him now, the fact that he was at a foreign school because of his parents (mostly his mother, he didn't really care about his idiotic stepfather) had sent him away, meeting all of these new people who seemed to enjoy messing with his head. Especially Mihno, that bastard. What was it they said? Shuckface? Shuckhead? Slinthead? His own head, shuck or not, was spinning.

He desired some peace and quiet, something he would not get yet, at least not while Chuck was awake. From where did that kid get his energy?

"Why's your hair green and blue and red?"

The room he was currently in, the room he would share with Chuck for god knows how long, turned out to be quite small, something that did not surprise him. It shaped exactly as a square, containing two beds pushed up on either side of the light blue walls, one big desk and two cupboards for clothing. It hit Thomas that he owned nothing but the clothes he was currently removing from his body. It was a sad thought, he felt poor and alone, left with no objects and no love.

He pulled the black boots of his feet and threw them by the cupboard by the end of what appeared to be his bed, the one placed on the left side of the room.

"You'll see tomorrow," he gave Chuck a small smile even though he didn't feel like it. His words seemed to excite Chuck.

"They let you in on their Sunday mischief?"

Thomas nodded and removed his light blue shirt, folded it neatly and approached the cupboard. He got a pleasant surprise as he did so, because the entire cabinet was filled with folded clothing, not his own but new sets of shirts and pants and underwear. He wanted to scream with joy, but decided not to. In there, he found a white t-shirt which seemed perfect to sleep in.

His body ached. His head ached. He was tired, exhausted, confused, excited. The room was spinning, it was pure joy to lie down on the bed, pull the covers over his aching body and rest his heavy head on the soft pillow. He felt like he could sleep for a hundred years, he felt like he needed to sleep for a hundred years.

"Wow, that's awesome," Chuck breathed. He was lying down on his own bed now, arms folded under his head, his eyes studying the white ceiling.

Thomas turned over on his back, letting his eyes travel across the ceiling, breathing everything in, this whole scene, this whole day. He opened his mouth without even realizing, the words jumped out, the question he had been holding inside all day was now out in the open.

"Why are you here, Chuck?"

The room was dark now, so dark Thomas could no longer see the features of his friends face, see how he reacted, what was running through his mind at this time.

For a few minutes, there was nothing but silence. Thomas felt like he had stepped over a line, gone too far, insulted this young boy in some way.

"They didn't want me," the voice that finally reached Thomas's ears was low and cracked. He was no longer a young boy pretending his age, all that pretending was gone. Here he was, a small boy left by his parents. Thomas's heart was breaking.

"Same here," he said, trying to show Chuck that he was not alone, that he was in the same situation. To his surprise, Chuck seemed to recover quickly, shuffled some in his bed, stayed quiet only for a few short seconds.

"Why did they leave you?"

The words hit Thomas harder than he thought they would, slapped his face and left a red ugly mark on his right cheek. He thanked the darkness for surrounding him, for making him invisible and for concealing his face, all the feelings that played with his features.

"I don't know," he answered finally, not quite telling the truth but not lying either. The words cut his tongue, poked his eyes and filled his lunges. It was not entirely true, but not all lies either. Grossman had said something about breaking into his stepfathers home, the images of articles, flashes of something that could have been memories appeared before his eyes and pulled at him, teased him, threatened to overpower his tired mind. Thomas pushed them away, not feeling ready to deal with them yet, not here, not now, not with Chuck so close to him.

"Not many of us do, at least not the ones who were left here," Chuck sounded tired, like he was almost drifting into sleep already.

"What do you mean?" Thomas sighed, feeling as confused as ever. He was too tired to search inside his own brain, too tired to search for words he had earlier heard, secrets these walls had already whispered to him, shared with him.

"There are rumors," Chuck yawned before he continued. "About some of the boys, the reasons they are here," Thomas didn't have to guess who Chuck was talking about.

"You mean Gally?" Thomas breathed, excited to know more, feeling the need to know more, to understand the peculiar boy some of the others seemed to be oh so afraid of.

"Not only Gally, but him as well of course. But also Mihno, Alby…" he trailed off, clearly too tired to focus. His breathing got more even, deeper.  
Chuck was asleep.

Thomas studied the ceiling, not really able to see anything, but doing it nevertheless. Mihno? Mihno had been sent here because he _did _something? Inside of him, a peculiar feeling roared, threw itself on the walls of his head, breaking every thought of reason he had. Instead, excitement and curiosity overpowered his mind. That boy, that funny, charming and wild boy had done something so bad he had to be schooled back to reason. Was he a criminal? Had he murdered someone? Thomas tried to picture the boy with the black satin hair with blood on his hands, a grim look carved into his face, but without succeeding. And Alby. Was he a criminal as well? Thomas had to admit the older boy could look frightening, that stern face of his, the way he almost never smiled, but could not picture him as a criminal. Alby seemed to structured, like someone who believed in order and purity and doing what's right.

This place was hiding so many secrets, these people were so dark and mysterious yet funny, charming and pleasant to be around. Thomas felt confused, his head was spinning as sleep finally grabbed him with its strong hands, pulling him under, without mercy.

Thomas felt like falling, a pleasant feeling, even though his thoughts was racing. But that was something he could deal with tomorrow. Now, he hoped to dream of something good.


	8. gossip

It's been too long since I updated, and I'm sorry for that, darlings. Hope you'll enjoy this one, and I promise that I'll try to update as soon as possible again. I've got some ideas for future adventures that I think you're going to enjoy reading about... 'til we meet again: chapter 8.

* * *

Thomas found himself fully awake at the most uncomfortable hour. Classes didn't start until 8.30, and he was already fully awake at 6. Thomas guessed it was due to all the new impressions: the new bedroom, the new bed, new pillow, everything was new. It would take a while to get used to it.

Thomas soon realized that he would not be able to stay in bed for much longer, just passing the time, and that was why we was in the shower room at 6.30 in the morning of his first day of classes.

On purpose, he kept the water a few degrees to cold, trying to remain awake and alert, hoping the cold water would keep the early hour and the lack of sleep from catching up with him. He was quite satisfied with himself since he had found the shower room entirely on his own. It wasn't hard to find, but since this place was almost like a maze and one wrong turn could result in him getting so lost that he would miss his first classes, he felt pleased.

Thomas allowed himself the small luxury of taking a long shower, even though the water was cold. Besides, it took him a great while to finally wash away all the paint from his hair and his fingers. He even found some of it on his neck and upper arms, wondering in silence how it had gotten there.

His thoughts this morning should be at the coming day, wondering about his classes, the new teachers, which subjects he would take and the amount of work he would have to catch up upon, but every time he started thinking about school, a familiar face emerged in front of him, stealing all of his attention away. It was the face of the boy with satin hair and charming eyes, the boy who had managed to steal all of his thoughts during only one day. It was a mixture of odd feelings that filled Thomas's cold body, feelings he wanted to chase away, to ban from his stomach and brain. The boy with the satin hair had done something really bad in order to get here, something that earned him a spot at this prison, this school for criminal and unwanted boys.

Unwanted

As the water slowly turned his skin to ice, dark thoughts began to gather in his mind as thunderclouds, threatening and depressing. With a deep sigh, he turned the water off and reached for the light and soft towel hanging at the other side of the small booth. The small warmth from the towel was welcoming, Thomas did his best to rub the soft fabric to his skin, trying to bring some warmth to it, succeeding only slightly.

His hand was resting on the small door handle when he heard another door open. Slowly he withdrew his own hand, stepping backwards until his back was pressed towards the cold wall of his shower booth.

"Wonder what mischief Alby and the others did tonight," came a voice, one Thomas did not recognize. A small laughter followed, accompanied by another unrecognizable voice.

"Well, the mischief seemed to continue throughout the whole night, at least for Newt, if you know what I mean?"

"What, he didn't come back to your room last night?"

"Nope. I was awake doing that math homework 'til dawn, but he never showed."

The two unknown boys filled the entire room with their rough laughers, bouncing it towards the walls and the floor and the ceiling, throwing it violently at Thomas's slightly trembling figure in the corner booth. Confused and cold, Thomas stayed put, eager to hear more of this strange conversation.

"The way he and Mihno act around each other," the first voice said. "It makes me sick."

Thomas felt violated. He felt beaten, a strange feeling revolting in his stomach.

"Stop it man," said the other voice. "It's not like it's something unusual. You remember that boy Andrew from last year? The one with the crooked teeth?"

He got a short murmur of remembrance from the first boy, and then continued speaking. "And besides, I don't think Mihno's like that. Haven't you seen those magazines he hides underneath his bed?"

The two boys laughed again, louder this time, not as cruel as the first time.

"Hey, shuckface, were you gonna shower or not?" there was a small urgency in the first boy's voice, followed by a shuffle of feet and the sound of someone opening the door to the booth next to the one Thomas was currently habituating.

"You better hurry up, or else all the juice will be gone."

"Slim it, shuckface, Gally said he'd save us some," said the voice from the booth as sound of running water once again filled the room.

Thomas felt numb. His body was trembling, out of cold and something else, something he could not yet define. He wanted out of his room, out of this situation, but could not yet move. His feet were frozen to the ground, and the two boys were still in the room. Who knows what they would do if they found out he had been listening this whole time?

It took another ten minutes before the boys left, another ten minutes of pressing his body against the still so cold wall, of holding his breath and of shaking. I took another ten minutes even after that before Thomas had the guts to step out of his booth and head for his clothes that lay on a heap at the chair in the corner.

Not even the clothes could make him warm again, not even the clothes could stop him from trembling. But why, he wondered, why were he shaking so badly?

All kinds of questions were running around in his head, causing mayhem, confusing him even more and more with every heartbeat. He didn't know what to make of the conversation he'd overheard and found himself lingering more on the thought of Mihno's sexuality than anything else. These tangles thoughts were the exact reason why Thomas finally found himself in a totally unknown corridor, one he had never visited before. He was, without doubt, lost.

Thomas sighed deeply and threw his hands in the air in a tired gesture. Confusion seemed to be a constant state of mind at this place, constantly following him, taunting him, teasing him. He felt tired, tired of being lost and tired of being confused.

"Lost, greenie?"

The voice was thick and low, bouncing off the walls and hitting Thomas from every direction. It was a voice he didn't recognize, one he wasn't sure he wanted to know. There was a threat hidden beneath those simple syllables.

There was a tall boy standing a few meters behind him in the corridor, a boy Thomas did not know but recognized still. It was Gally, the boy with the terrifying laugh, the boy with terrors growing out of his back, the boy with hidden motives and a wide sadistic grin playing with the features in his face.

"You seem lost," he took a few steps closer, deleted some of the comforting distance that had been separating the two of them. Thomas remained silent, not sure what to say without admitting that he was in fact lost. Admitting weakness did not seem like a smart move, not to Gally.

He laughed. Gally laughed, a short noise, not a joyful noise at all.

"You're Thomas right?" he was even closer now, the hairs on Thomas's neck was standing up.

"Yeah," his voice came of low and cold. "And you're Gally," he said, no question mark at the end of his sentence.

Gally cocked his head, his eyes carefully studying every feature in Thomas's tired face.

"Why are you here, greenie?" Gally asked, his arms crossed over his chest. "Did your mama and papa not want your sorry face? Or did you manage to scare them off? _Make _them send you here?" there was a mocking tone in his voice, a tone that threw even more wood to the fire that was burning brighter and brighter inside of Thomas now. A fire of rage and confusion.

"That's none of your business," he managed to say.

"You're wrong, shuckface. It is my business. Everything that happens at this school is my business."

Thomas opened his mouth to answer, to say something that would shut Gally's mouth right up. But before he could even think of some smart comeback, a short figure appeared at the end of the corridor, a figure Thomas recognized all too well.

"There you are, Thomas! I've been looking all over for you!" there was a thick tone of relief in Chuck's voice, one that indicated that the younger boy had been searching for him quite some time.

Thomas tried to hide the relief that boiled up inside of him, careful not to let it show. Gally himself turned around and gave Chuck a look of disgust before he walked away.

"That looked intense," Chuck said when Thomas reached him.

"Yeah, it kind of was," he decided to speak with Newt about this Gally figure later.

"The others are waiting for us at breakfast, they said they'd try to get some juice for us, so we better hurry before they decide to drink it themselves," they were hurrying down the huge staircase now, there was a different kind of energy in Chuck's steps, maybe it was the thought of the juice that made him bounce up and down.

"Yeah, what's up with that juice anyway?" Thomas asked, remembering the conversation he'd overheard between the two boys in the shower room.

"It's the best, I promise. The only way you can make it through the morning 'til lunch," Chuck smiled widely and Thomas could not help but smile back, for the first time this morning – his smile was genuine and true.


	9. restless

Aloha darlings! Hope you've had a wonderful christmas! This chapter is one of those in-between thingies: It is leading up to something _good. _Thank you all for your kind rewievs, feel free to leave some more!  
I do not own the Maze Runner, just playing with the characters!

* * *

"Whatever ye do, shuckface, don't let 'em know about our mission last night," Newt's eyes were scanning Thomas's tired face. The lack of sleep was finally beginning to catch up with him. There was a glass of bright yellow orange juice waiting for him on the table. He welcomed the sugary liquid with a smile on his face. Chuck was right, this juice was to die for.

"No need to worry about yer classes, greenie. Just follow me, we'll be taking at least the first two together," Newt may use a strong language, but his heart was kind and true.

Thomas found himself nodding, downing the last of the juice, feeling satisfied. With all the sugar in his veins, he felt ready to take on the day.

It turned out he wasn't ready for the day. Not at all. His fist lesson was math, difficult equations that used up the sugary energy right away. He felt restless in his chair, twisting and turning and constantly longing for the freedom that was available in the corridors. Their teacher, Mr. Kidd turned out to be a middle-aged man with already grey hair and rough skin and deep blue eyes. Oddly deep and oddly blue. His eyes seemed to follow Thomas's every move, not the way he moved his pen but the way he held himself. The way he moved around on his chair to find a more comfortable way to sit.  
When the lesson was finally over, Thomas felt strangely violated and very, very tired.

"Thomas?" the voice bounced between the walls, rang out loud and oddly intimidating. Newt looked at him, one eyebrow raised, but said nothing. Instead he gestured that he would wait outside to accompany Thomas to their next lesson.

Mr. Kidd stood at the whiteboard, his body leaned against it, his arms crossed over his chest.

"First of all, welcome to our school," he smiled lightly. "And second, did you play any sports at your former school?"

Thomas felt surprised by the odd question and decided that was the best word to describe this new teacher of his: _odd._

"Uh, yeah," he felt a bit taken aback by the question. "I was on the tracking team."

Mr. Kidd looked pleased. There was a satisfied glimmer in his blue eyes, a small smile played with his thin lips. "Good, good," he paused, turned around and started erasing different equations from the whiteboard. "We meet after dinner in the yard behind the school. Be there ten minutes early and I'll show you a pair of shoes."  
Thomas felt confused. Very confused.

"Excuse me sir, but what for?"

Mr. Kidd didn't even turn around when he answered. "You've got the physics, the restless behavior. You would be a great access for our orienteering team. Now, hurry off, or you'll be late for your next lesson."

"He said what?" Newt wore a shocked expression over his tired features. This day had passed in a blur of new experiences and new knowledge, of avoiding the eyes of professors and not answering when the constant question rang through the room: "_Who did this?"  
_

The teachers didn't seem to appreciate their nightly whiteboard art, especially not the sexual content or the poor attempts to paint the teachers themselves. Thomas had a hard time concealing his joy and laughter. Newt, Alby and Mihno seemed to have had the same issues.

"He wants me on the orienteering team," Thomas repeated and threw one quick glance at the boy with the satin hair situated on the other side of the table. Mihno smiled, a slow smile, a smile that spoke of exciting adventures and unbelievable danger. Thomas tried to hide a shudder. He hadn't met Mihno since last night, and a lot had happened since last night.

"That was quick," Newt said, a strange smile on his face. He seemed both happy and bitter, an expression that the lines in Newt's face was very used to. Another mystery Thomas didn't know how to solve. Not yet. He refused to look at Mihno again, so instead he kept his glance focused on Newt.

Thomas shrugged his shoulders and did his best to hide the excitement that was currently doing its best to force his face into a childish grin.

"Mihno's the best one on the team, I bet he can teach you very quickly," Chuck was situated beside Thomas on the bench, chewing happily on his ham and cheese sandwich.

He couldn't help it. He really couldn't help but look at Mihno. The boy's expression said nothing, it was almost as it was carved in stone. A strange feeling spread in Thomas's gut, killing the excitement right away. It was replaced by an unnerving nervousness, something poisonous spreading through his stomach, eating away all the happy feelings, destroying everything that had been building up throughout the day. He felt naked, he felt exposed. He felt venerable in the most terrifying way.

Dinner was almost over, it was almost time to hit the fields.

Thomas wanted to throw up.

The others had already changed the subject, they were talking about some experiences they'd had with the teachers, some reactions to their nightly art. Thomas couldn't keep up with them, his thoughts were stuck on the previous conversation, all kinds of questions were spinning in his mind, chasing him around, making him feel even more and more uneasy.

He almost fainted when Mihno finally stood up and announced it was time to go, urging Thomas to hurry up. His legs were shaking, his minds were spinning. Why did he feel so nauseated?

They walked towards the end of the building in silence, walked out of a back door and out onto the grass onto the big field that marked the beginning of the schools grounds. There were a few smaller houses situated close to the main building, and then came the forest. A huge forest, dark and unnerving, holding ancient secrets and promises of dark deeds. Finally, the nervousness was challenged by something else, a feeling that conquered all of his insides, filled his veins and urged his heart to beat even faster. The lust for adventure.

"Welcome to the maze," Mihno said, a small smile playing with the edges of his mouth, a smile that he soon managed to suppress, to kill. But not before Thomas had time to notice it. The satin boy next to him started moving towards one of the smaller houses where a small group of people were already standing. The satin boy kept on confusing Thomas, he seemed to be the kind of mixed signals.

"The maze?" Thomas asked, his eyes focused on the dark forest. The trees seemed to stand close together, and there was only one path visible.

"That's what us runners call it," he made a gesture with his head towards the group of people Thomas had noticed. "Because once you're in there, you better remember where you came from, otherwise you're screwed."

They had reached the team of _runners _standing in a circle in front of the small house closest to the forest. Thomas's strange math teacher was kneeling in the middle of the circle, a map and a compass in hand. Mr. Kidd looked up when he heard Thomas and Mihno approaching, an odd smile on his lips.

"Welcome, Thomas, to the runners," a pair of shoes was tossed to him, a pair of running shoes with a thick sole and bright yellow shoelaces. "Put those on and make yourself ready for taking on this maze of ours," Mr. Kidd smiled even wider, revealing some of his yellow crooked teeth. "Just follow Mihno, he'll show you how it's done."

The shoes was a little too big, but he had no time complaining. Because suddenly the runners were taking off, one by one.

Mihno was looking at him by the time he managed to get to his feet. A challenging look carved into his face, wicked mischief glittering in his eyes.

Thomas had never felt so ready, yet so afraid.


	10. maze

Aloha darlings! And happy new year! I say we kick it off with a steamy mihnas scene, or what do you think?  
Please leave a review when you're done reading, I'd like to know what you think of this one!  
And of corse, I do not own tmr or any of the characters!  
Enjoy!

* * *

Thomas could feel the satin boy's breath warming his already sweaty neck. They were currently standing still, very still, in the middle of the very dark and very frightening forest. They'd been running for fifteen minutes straight before this very unexpected stop. And now Mihno was standing so close that Thomas could hear his heart beating, echoing between the trees. He did his best to hide a shudder and the frightened and surprised smile that followed.

"What are you doing?" he wondered as he turned around to face the other boy, who was currently holding a map, studying it.

"What does it look like, shuckface?" the other boy shot back, clearly not in the mood for stupid questions or funny remarks. The satin boy had a wrinkle between his furrowed brows, his mouth slightly open and his breath a little bit uneven from the running. Thomas moved to stay closer to him, peaking over his shoulder to get a good look at the map.

"We're here," Mihno pointed at a spot on the map, in the middle of the forest. Thomas thought it all looked the same and admired how it didn't look all the same to Mihno. "And here's the first control," he pointed at another spot a few centimeters away from the first one.

Suddenly, a noise from behind them made Thomas jump, biting his tongue in order not to scream out loud. It had been a quiet noise, but it still reached his ears, sending a strong shudder down his back. He turned, quickly, and scanned the area around them, hoping to either see something, or not see anything at all. He didn't know what would be best.

"Did you hear that?" his words came out as a half whisper. Mihno stayed quiet, clearly listening for another sound. And so it came. It was a loud cracking, much closer this time. It was a noise of someone, or something, sneaking up on them, coming closer and closer with every heartbeat. Thomas shuddered again, his heart threatened to jump out of his ribcage and flee out of this maze. Who knew what could be hiding between these dense trees?

As if the creature could hear the question mark at the end of his sentence, it showed itself in a blur of motion, ran quickly between the trees. A blur of darkness, thick and frightening.

So Thomas panicked. His legs acted before his head had the chance to, they carried him over thick roots, broken branches and between trees. He could hear Mihno shouting after him, cussing loudly, and then the footsteps of the other boy.

"Thomas! You _bloody son of a bitch! _Stop running!"

But Thomas' legs wouldn't stop running, his heart wouldn't stop pounding, his heart wouldn't stop racing. His breathing grew heavier and heavier, but fear still had a tight grip on him. He just kept running, until he wasn't. He kept running until his running transformed into falling. Something heavy had thrown itself over his speeding body, and they were both falling, crashing to the ground, merciless and painfully.

Thomas screamed, a surprised scream, a short scream as he tumbled to the ground with this other creature on top of him, holding him down as he tried to fight his way back up again.

"You… Stupid… Son… of… _a bitch_!" the creature screamed from behind clenched teeth. As soon as Thomas realized the voice belonged to Mihno and not some hideous beast, he stopped kicking and relaxed his adrenaline filled muscles into the moist ground. The satin boy had twigs in his hair and a grim look in his eyes, his knees on either side of Thomas' stomach and his hands on either side of Thomas' head.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he shouted, a low kind of shouting, an aggressive kind. Mihno's whole figure trembled with rage, a stressed and slightly panicked kind of rage.

"You didn't see that?" he had a hard time breathing, and an even harder time getting those words to leave his lips. They came out as a terrified whisper, one he would later feel very ashamed of.

"Yes, I did," Mihno had lowered his voice and replaced the anger with grumpiness. "It was a stray dog, you shuckface. They camp out in here, lots of them. I guess they like the dampness and the darkness."

Suddenly, Thomas became very aware of how close the other boy was, of the position they were currently in. It took him every ounce of strength he had to prevent his cheeks from blushing and his breath from quickening. Mihno seemed pleased with the situation, as if he could see Thomas' struggle. Slowly, he rolled of Thomas and positioned himself in the damp moss, his back against one of the trees. Thomas himself sat up next to the other runner, careful not to touch Mihno in the progress.

"What's your deal, greenie?" Mihno asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. It seemed as if he had shaken the anger and irritation of, and replaced it with curiousness and mockery. Carefully, the satin boy touched his knee to Thomas', smiling broadly as he did so.

"My deal?" Thomas swallowed.

"Yes, your deal. Like, what's your problem? Why so scared?" Mihno bounced their knees together again, painfully slow.

"I'm not scared, its…" Thomas' breath caught as Mihno permanently rested his leg towards Thomas' own, leaning in a bit closer so that Thomas could feel the heat radiating from his body, making his heart beat a little bit quicker, much to his own surprise. What was happening to him? Not that he could remember much from _before, _but this seemed like something he would not forget. This whole I'm—interested-in-boys thingie. It annoyed him, the impact the other boy had on him. Not because he was a boy and Thomas himself was a boy, but because of how he didn't really seem to have a choice in the matter. Mihno had him under a spell, a wickedly strong one as well. Thomas felt pathetic and exposed, like he was falling too hard to fast, like the satin boy was playing with him, nothing more and nothing less. "Admit it, you would've done the same thing if this was your first time in the maze," Thomas found himself saying, grasping for a reason to change the subject.

The satin boy laughed and leaned in even more, now their shoulders were touching. Thomas' skin was on fire underneath the thin fabric of his light blue runners shirt.

His breath caught again, but Mihno didn't seem to notice.

"I klunked my pants the first time I was alone out here. Got lost as well, didn't find my way back until nightfall," Mihno suddenly shifted, leaned heavily away from Thomas, who immediately started to ache with longing. As soon as he had leant away, he leaned back again, positioning himself as close to Thomas as he could actually be, their entire sides were touching. The only difference was that Mihno was holding out a hand towards Thomas, the map placed inside his closed palm.

Thomas took it, unsure what to do with it.

"And now you're the one who got us lost, which means it is your job to get us un-lost again. Good luck, shuckface," and with those words, Mihno closed his eyes and leaned his head against the thick tree trunk their backs was propped up against.

Thomas felt cheated, but said nothing. Instead he just opened up the map and spread it out over his legs. It took him near a minute to recognize the place Mihno had pointed out as their position before, or at least what he thought was the correct spot. He then guessed they'd taken off south, running not more than a few hundred meters.

"I found it," he said out loud in order to wake the runner up. Thomas held his finger to their current position and watched Mihno's face, expecting a smile to break out and some warm words to pour out of his friend's mouth. The satin boy did smile, but it was not warm. It was mocking. And the words that poured over his lips were not nice, they were rather harsh and even more mocking than his smile.

"Are you sure?" Mihno laughed, and Thomas felt his patience break. They were lost in the middle of a huge, and quite scary, forest, and all his shuckface of a friend could do was laugh at him? Instead of answering, Thomas pushed the map into Mihno's lap and leaned his head against the tree trunk, looking up towards the small piece of sky that was visible between the treetops. It was already a few shades darker than it had been when they had left the school, and Thomas found himself questioning why they had to have these practices after dinner, so close to nightfall. Maybe that was coach's way of urging them to do this whole thing as quick as possible, a kind of threat. _Do what you're supposed to do, as quick as possible, or you'll be trapped in the maze as the night falls. _Thomas really didn't want to stay here as the forest grew even darker than it already was.

"Slim it, greenie," Mihno said, his voice lower and softer than before. It was a dangerous kind of soft, a voice a hunter would use in order to make his victim believe that everything was all right when it was in fact close to being killed. Even with this knowledge, Thomas felt himself stepping right into the trap.

Even softer, the satin boy placed a hand on Thomas' jaw, forcing him to look in Mihno's direction. The touch stopped Thomas' heart from beating, stopped his lungs from breathing.

"Think, greenie," Mihno said once he'd forced Thomas' eyes down on the map again. His voice was darker now, with a sharp edge to it.

Suddenly, Thomas was hit with the urging feeling to touch the satin boy, touch him like he supposed he'd never touched anybody before. He wanted to explore the other boy's features, feel the lines in his face, run his fingers through that satin hair and steal Mihno's breath just like the runner stole Thomas' own. The thought scared him, scared him senseless but was so intriguing as well. Exciting.

"Think!" Mihno urged, his voice stronger now. They were even closer, their faces only a few inches apart. The air between them was trembling with heat and excitement and fear.

Thomas couldn't think. All he could do was lose himself in the moment.

And he did.


	11. kiss

I do not own the Maze Runner, I'm just playing around with the characters!  
Please darlings, leave reviews and let me know what you think!

* * *

There was another pair of lips on his lips, a hand on the side of his jaw, another hand on his thigh, a tongue in his mouth and a burning inside his stomach. All thoughts had left his head, there was nothing left but desire, one he had never experienced before. This desire mixed well with the sense of adventure, a chemical reaction made its way through his blood.

Around him, the dark forest seemed to melt into nothingness. It didn't matter anymore, because all was right in the world, now that his lips was pressed to Mihno's, now that his body was in the runners strong arms. All of the forest's deep and frightening secrets was long forgotten, they didn't matter anymore. Thomas had never been so safe, yet in so much danger before. His blood was on fire, burning its way through his body, the pain was breathtaking and exciting and overwhelming.

Fingers through satin hair, finally, finally, finally. Feeling the soft material run between his fingers, feeling his breath caught in the bottom of his throat, feeling hands along his arms, feeling so much at the same time yet nothing at all. His mind was empty, his feelings were leading the way.

Mihno's lips wasn't air. The boy was the reason Thomas couldn't breathe, and yet Thomas couldn't stay away. He didn't want to stay away. He needed this, he needed Mihno, even though his head was spinning and his skin was burning and his body was slowly dying. In this moment, Mihno was worth dying for.

And then, he broke away.

Thomas was left on the ground, breathing more heavily than he'd done after their chase through the forest. With Mihno's lips no longer on his own, Thomas could finally breathe again. He didn't want to breathe again. If kissing Mihno meant dying, Thomas was willing to commit suicide. Right here, right now. But Mihno was no longer inches away from him, no longer painting Thomas' body with his fingers, no longer breathing in his ear and no longer _here. _

Mihno was standing up. He had his hands crossed over his chest and was trying hard not to breathe as if running hundred miles in less than an hour. There was a sudden hurry in his expression, one that had not been there seconds ago.

Slowly, Thomas stood up, unknowingly touching his fingers to his now swollen lips.

"We need to get going," Mihno said, his voice low and determined. Thomas felt cheated on, he felt as if a moment had been stolen from him, a moment he so desperately needed. An anger was swelling inside of him, an anger based on the grounds of not understanding either the boy in front of him or the situation they were currently in.

"So you´re just going to leave?" Mihno had his back towards Thomas, his legs were already moving, leaving Thomas and all of his confused feelings behind.

"No, _we _aregoing to leave. Believe me, you don't want to be stuck here when darkness falls," he was still walking, not waiting for Thomas to keep up.

Thomas had to speed to get next to the satin boy, to keep up with his long and determined steps. They were moving fast, jumping over roots, avoiding holes in the ground and bowing their heads to not get slapped in the face by branches. It was agony, keeping quiet after what had happened earlier. His mind was full of questions, spinning around, around, around, tormenting him, finding pleasure in his pain.

Mihno kept quiet, always one step ahead of Thomas. The awkwardness was thick in the air, constantly bugging Thomas, constantly teasing him until he suddenly snapped. His hand closed over Mihno's thick arm, holding him back so they were standing next to each other, locking eyes and facing the demons that were hiding within.

"What was that, Mihno?" he asked, addressing the issue directly. To his surprise, Mihno's facial features stretched into a wide smile, a teasing smile.

"That, shuckface, was a kiss. A damn good kiss," he had a look of wicked mischief on his face, a smug and satisfied look.

Thomas felt his chin drop, showing exactly how surprised Mihno's words made him. "Yeah, I know," he managed to say, looking anywhere else but into the satin boy's dark eyes. "But _why, _I mean…" Thomas sighed heavily, throwing his hands up to underline the frustration growing in his chest and mind. They were walking again, the forest was thicker now, the trees thinner, glimpses of sunlight touched their bodies and brought a message of hope.

"I saw a chance, and I took it," Thomas couldn't actually see Mihno's face, but he heard the smile in his voice. "Don't deny it, shuckface, that was the answer to all your prayers, the best moment of your sad little life," it wasn't a smile in his face anymore, it was a wicked grin.

"Slim it, shuckface," Thomas answered and surprised both himself and his fellow runner with his choice of words. This place was growing on him, in many different ways, he realized now.

"Using big words there, honey," Mihno said as the forest finally came to an end and a wide field was suddenly all Thomas could see.

"Damn," Mihno breathed and stepped out on the field. Thomas followed, confused about the runners agony. Thomas himself was just glad to finally leave the dark forest.

"Where are we?" he asked and looked around. Up ahead was a road visible in between the two fields. Apart from that, the field was currently all he could see.

"About fifteen minutes from the school," he sighed heavily. "In that direction." Mihno pointed a finger to the left and immediately started walking again.

Thomas' feet were hurting, he was certain they would hurt for weeks after this. His breath was heavy, his shirt sticking to his body even though the air was beginning to get chilly. Darkness knocked at their door, slowly chasing away the light that was currently guiding the two boys on their path back home. Soon it would be impossible to see anything at all due to the lack of other sources of light other than the sun. Thomas silently hoped they would reach the school before that happened.

"What did you mean earlier?" he asked suddenly, apparently not able to control the steady stream of words coming out of his mouth and coloring the chilly air between the two boys. "When you said it was the answer to all my prayers?" the statement had been bugging him for a good five minutes now, and he was no longer able to hold his thoughts to himself. He was in desperate need of answers. He was in desperate need of another kiss, but that was a thought he managed to keep to himself. For now.

"I've seen the way you look at me, Thomas," there was a thick layer of both pride and irony in the satin boy's voice. "Don't deny it. You've wanted a taste of this ever since you first laid eyes on me," there was, once again, like always, a grin on his face. Mihno's eyes was stuck on the silhouette of a grand building now visible at the end of the big field right ahead of them.

"You're a dick, you know that right?"

Mihno laughed at Thomas' words.

"And yet you know I'm right. Otherwise you would've denied it by now."

Thomas was tired. Confused. Exhausted. Irritated. Frustrated. Silent. Thomas stayed silent, not able to deny the words coming out of his friend's mouth. Because he was right, in a way.

They were close to the school now, only about a hundred meters left until the field transformed into grass. Only about a hundred meters left until Thomas could finally relax, finally get out of this agonizing situation.

"I don't blame you, you know," Mihno said, still grinning. "It is few who can resist this," he made a point by pointing at his own body. Thomas couldn't resist – he looked. He looked and tried to ignore the little tingling feeling in his gut, but without succeeding. He failed at the mission, he failed so badly it almost hurt.

"Aren't you a little bit too cocky for your own good?" Thomas mumbled, his eyes focused on the ground, his cheeks burning.

"Not really," Mihno answered, still grinning. It looked like he was going to say something else, but was interrupted by a harsh and cold voice.

"What are you doing out here boys?" there was a threat in the simple question, one that made Thomas feel very uneasy.

The janitor, the Griever, was standing straight ahead of them, wearing a stern expression. It was the small smile that made the hair on Thomas' arms stand up in an utterly painful way.

The Griever took pleasure in them breaking the rules, because that meant that he was allowed to punish them.


	12. lost

I do not own the Maze Runner!

Thank you darlings for all your kind reviews, please leave some after this chapter as well and let me know what you think! Sorry for this one being so short, I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

* * *

"That was so shucking close," He laughed. Mihno laughed. Thomas glared at him and focused on putting as much anger into his stare as possible. Thomas had just suffered through the worst day of his life he only barely made it through alive, and the satin boy was _laughing._

_"Close? _Are you fucking kidding me? We nearly died! That _man _was going to kill us!" They were finally back to the common room again, Mihno threw himself into a sofa while Thomas couldn't relax enough to sit down. He kept pacing the area in front of Mihno, molding his anger into words and throwing them around like confetti on a birthday party.

"That _man, _the Griever, is just an old shuck. He can't harm us. And besides, you were with me. I got us out of there unharmed," Mihno smiled even bigger, taking visible pleasure in the situation, in Thomas' agony.

He stopped. Thomas stopped and looked at the runner in the sofa with a look on his face that expressed utter confusion and tiredness. It expressed anger and frustration. Thomas wished all his questions could show on his face, he wished they would all be written on his skin for the runner to see. He wished he wouldn't need to open his mouth and use his voice to name all of his doubts. But his skin was clean, there was no sign of ink on it, only some confused and aggravated lines around his eyes and mouth that expressed the tiredness he felt in his bones and the confusion that raged in his mind.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, his voice low. The runner didn't smile anymore, his face was blank and a bit tired. It was the first time Thomas had actually seen Mihno tired. "This might be your daily life – life as a criminal, getting lost in big dark forests and facing a shucking terrifying Griever – but it is not mine. So don't you dare laugh at me being scared, or nervous, or filled with questions, because _I don't even know why I'm in this fucking madhouse!" _Thomas felt even more tired, he felt drained. His hands were shaking, his heart was racing, his mind was roaring.

Mihno said nothing. He just sat there, his eyes fixated on Thomas, his mouth closed, his face tired. Between them the silence grew thicker and thicker. The clock had stopped, time had stopped, and all noise had fled the room. There was nothing left but one intense silence. Thomas wanted to scream, he wanted to shatter the silence so badly his throat hurt. Mihno did nothing. He just sat there and slowly, ever so slowly, killed Thomas with his eyes. Seconds passed, minutes, until something finally happened.

He stood up. Mihno stood up. He slowly got to his feet, straightened his beige runner's shirt and walked up to where Thomas stood frozen.

"You don't know me," he said, his face just inches away from Thomas' own. Mihno looked frightening, his face stern and his eyes cold. It was such a change, it was heartbreaking, seeing him like this. An hour ago, that face had expressed so many other feeling, so much else. His eyes were fiery, but burning without the passion he so desired. They burned with anger. His lips were not any less desirable, not even shaped as a stern line. It was scary, the change in Mihno's face. "You don't know a bloody fucking thing about me," he continued before turning around and walking away. Thomas did nothing. He just watched him go, a mixture of feelings raging in his chest.

That's how the blond boy found him, that's where the blond boy found him. Sitting in the sofa with his face in his hands, trying to empty his mind, trying to make sense of his feelings.

"I knew the first time's hard, but I didn't think ye'd be this bloody bad at it."

Newt sat down on the sofa next to him, nudged him with his shoulder.

"Come on man, I bet you weren't that bad."

Thomas sighed deeply and sat back up, leaned back against the back of the sofa and sighed again, yet refused to look at the blond boy at his side.

"We got lost," he said weakly. Sighed again. He could not stop sighing.

"You got lost?" Newt said, a hint of laugher in his voice. "So what? Everybody gets lost, 'specially the first time. Even the one's that's been running this forest their whole miserable life's gets bloody lost now and then," he shrugged his shoulders and leaned back as well, his eyes locked on Thomas' sulking figure.

"I made Mihno angry, I think I really insulted him," Thomas continued, his voice still flat and emotionless.

"Wait a second," Newt said, having huge difficulties restraining his voice. "You made Mihno mad?"

A shudder made its way through Thomas' body, his breath caught in his throat and the words he'd intended to use died a brutal death before they'd even made their way over his chapped lips.

Newt laughed. He actually laughed.

The feeling of uselessness lost its strong grip on Thomas' body and was replaced by another emotion, replaced by a violent rage. Newt laughed at him. For the first time this evening, Thomas turned to look at the blond boy, immediately their eyes locked. Thomas' were burning bright with a surprisingly strong rage, Newt's were filled with laughter and bright bliss.

"Mihno's mad all the time, mate. Nothing to be worried about. He'll come around sooner or later, that blood shuck won't be able to keep away, trust me," he nudged Thomas with his shoulder once again, a huge and teasing grin on his lips.

Thomas was at a loss for words. The rage inside him slowly died, abandoned his body and was replaced by an odd calmness. Yet, Newt didn't have the whole story.

He didn't know what had happened in the forest, he didn't know about the kiss or the hands or the raging desire. Newt didn't know about the words that had escaped Thomas' own mouth, he didn't know exactly how Mihno had looked. Yet, his words were calming, exactly what Thomas needed to hear.

"Come on man, tomorrow's a new bloody day to mess up," Newt stood up and extended a hand towards Thomas, one he gladly took.

Newt was right. Tomorrow is a new _bloody _day, another day to mess up royally. Even though a comfortable feeling had made port in Thomas' chest, he knew that tomorrow would be just as wicked as today.


	13. cheerful

I am so sorry darlings, it's been forever! School has been a real bitch, so I haven't really had time to write. Here's a short chapter, I promise the next one will be longer, and much more exciting...  
(I do not own the Maze Runner or any of the characters. I am just playing around with them)  
Enjoy, darlings!  
\- XO

Thomas had great trouble falling asleep that night. Chuck was snoring in the bed on the other side of the room, he'd already been asleep when Thomas finally made his way in and collapsed in his own bed. He had thought sleep would come easily since his body and mind had never before been so utterly exhausted, but it turned out he was wrong. He'd been tossing and turning in his own bed for hours, trying to find some peace of mind without succeeding. His thoughts were spinning, making him dizzy and nauseated.

Mihno had kissed him. He'd kissed him and then walked away. And of course, Thomas' own mouth had to screw it up. Not the kiss itself, but the aftermath.

Why did he say those things?

His head was spinning, his heart was beating painfully hard and his lips was still burning. The effect of Newt's words had started to wear of, they were like medicine – numbing for a while, but when the drugs left your blood system and the pain washed over you once again – it was even worse than before.

He'd kissed a _boy _and liked it. Hell, he wanted so desperately to do it again. And again. And again. His mind was spinning, running around in loops and causing mayhem. He'd accused Mihno for being a criminal and was yet not sure why he was even at this lousy school himself. Maybe he was a criminal, just as Mihno. Maybe he'd done something much worse than the satin boy.

She'd left him. His own mother had left him. She'd left him with all of these boys, a mental headmaster and a _fucking Griever _who threatened to torture him? She'd left him with nothing but small fragments of memories, _she left him. _

Maybe he was just as bad as Mihno. A baseball bat and an uncontrollable rage was all he could remember at the moment. That wild, wicked, burning rage tearing his insides down and concurring his mind. Like fire in his blood and _oh God he was just as bad as Mihno.  
_

He was a criminal. Mental. Wicked.

Breakfast was… Different.

There was a tension in the air between them, a tension that could not be ignored or forgotten or comfortable. Because it was certainly not comfortable.

Mihno acted kind of normal. Kind of. He refused to look at Thomas, he refused to talk to him. The air between them was freezing, it was ice cold. But not hostile. No hatred, a fact that made Thomas feel even more unsecure, even more nervous.

Newt seemed tired. Both tired, as in dark circles under his eyes and resting his head in his hands, but also tired at this whole Thomas-and-Mihno situation. He was staring at them, one at the time, his head moving as if he was following a tennis match.

Until he suddenly… Said something.

"Well this is bloody cheerful," Newt shook his head and sighed deeply. "You act like a pair of fucking nimrods."

The words slapped Thomas, hard. He could feel his mouth falling slightly open, feel his blood turn to ice in his veins, feel his body react to the harsh words falling out of his friend's mouth.

"You're the one to speak, you bloody chicken," Mihno's voice was tired, aggravated. Thomas felt lost, confused, no longer following the conversation.

"Shut yer big mouth," Newt mumbled.

"Not so tough now, eh?" Mihno's voice was hard, his words tired. There was a hostiletension in the air above their breakfast table, a tension Thomas himself didn't quite understand. He felt as if he'd fallen asleep in the middle of a movie and woken up just in time for the big ending. It seemed like the two boys were referring to some old fight of theirs, some old argument that had occurred before Thomas' arrival to the school. A spark of curiosity ignited his insides as he mimicked the Newt's movements – he felt as if he was watching a tennis game, hard words flying through the air between the two players, between Newt and Mihno.

"I'm no bloody chicken," Newt responded, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth hard. It certainly looked like an argument they'd had before. Mihno sighed deeply and shrugged his shoulders, Newt leaned forward over the table and put his head in his hands. "It's not like you're some bloody gutsy imp yerself," the words came out like a murmur, barely hearable due to the fact that Newt's mouth was still pressed to his palms. Thomas hid his confusion in his glass of juice, taking long sips.

"Don't fucking start," Mihno sighed, a sound that soon turned into a small laughter. His eyes travelled to Thomas' for the first time since last night, one quick glance before he turned away. There was something odd in his look, something venerable and different. Thomas didn't have time to analyze it before it was gone. He had a feeling it would not return.

His glass was empty, his stomach full and his head confused. The minutes had betrayed them, they had passed in a hurry and now it was time to go to class. Thomas felt both relieved and a bit annoyed – he'd loved to say at that breakfast table and find out more about what was going on. A not so surprising curiosity had been awakened inside him, one he knew he had to feed or else he'd go crazy.

It was no surprise, either, that Mihno hurried off before the rest of them as soon as they stood up to leave the dining hall. He made a run for it, taking a few steps in full runner-mode to catch up with some tall blonde boy.

Newt was walking by Thomas' side, a frown on his face, his eyes glued to his shoes.

"What was that all about?" Thomas kept his voice low, made it audible for his blonde friend only.

"What was what?" came as an answer, Newt still refused to look at him.

"Don't play dumb, Newt," Thomas sighed. His friend sighed as well, even deeper than him.

"Mihno's been naggin' me for ages about not keeping my…" there was an awkward pause. "…relationship with a _certain _person a secret." The words seemed to pain him in a way that almost made Thomas regret he'd even asked.

"With who?" it was his curiosity controlling his mouth, controlling his words. He wanted to slap himself in the face, he wanted to sew his own mouth shut.

"I've got to go, catch up with you later, shuckhead," there was a hint of a smile on Newt's lips, even though he refused to answer Thomas' stupid question, the expression in his eyes testified that he'd heard the question. He chose to ignore it.

At least he didn't seem mad, Thomas thought as he walked slowly towards his classroom. His legs and body hurt from yesterday's adventures, but not nearly as much as his head and heart. What the hell was going on here?


	14. bully

Here you go darlings! And I still don't own the maze runner or anything.

Please leave a review and tell me what you think of this chapter!

XO

* * *

The school-day was slow. Each lesson seemed to last forever and Thomas could concentrate on nothing but his tangled thoughts. Lunch came and went, the people around his table were even quieter than this morning, the air was even chillier. Mihno wouldn't look at neither Thomas nor Newt, and for once the blonde boy kept his sharp words to himself. Alby, the only one in their little gang that had not been present during this morning's pointy conversation, seemed utterly confused. He kept on talking, questioning their silence and cloudy facial expressions. No matter what he did, Chuck was the only one willing to speak. Yet, Alby left the lunch table with no information what so ever regarding this morning's argument.

Thomas' final period was math. Each number seemed to mock him, make fun of his tired eyes and confused tries to solve each equation. It was with a sigh of relief Thomas fled the classroom at the end of the period.

Once outside, he came to wish he had never left the mocking numbers and vile equations. He could have kept on being mocked by those damned numbers all day in order to avoid this situation.

Because there he was. The hallway seemed painfully small, there was no way around the problem, there was no way he could get by the boy with the buzz cut without him noticing.

He had already noticed Thomas' slightly terrified figure. The buzz cut boy was staring at him, smiling slightly, not moving a single feature, waiting for him to move.

Waiting for his pray to come to him because that's how skilled of a hunter he was. He had the highest killings score in the entire house, this accomplished without breaking a sweat.

Yes, Thomas' was almost trembling. Yet, he decided to keep walking, to not avoid the unavoidable. His legs moved, his body moved, he faced the second scariest creature in this building. The boy with the buzz cut.

"I heard about your… training session… with the_ runner_ yesterday," on his lips there was a smile, a slight one, a sly one. Thomas felt his blood turn to ice, the bones in his body crumbled, he fell, fell, fell. Thomas was no more, the words coming out of the buzz cut's mouth pierced his skin like poisons needles, the venom mixed with his blood, slowly causing every vital organ in his body to shut itself down, to shut Thomas down. He couldn't breathe, his mouth wouldn't open, his throat was too small, his lungs were filled with sand and blood, sand and blood and there was no room for air.

"You heard what?" his body was on autopilot, the words managed to dig their way out from between his closed lips and colored the air between his own body and the buzz cut.

"I heard the two of you got lost," he laughed, seemed to smell Thomas' panic, seemed to feel Thomas' fear, he seemed to enjoy the moment far too much. "It takes a lot for that guy to get lost, you know. I assume it was your fault and your fault only," his words hurt less this time, strange. Thomas' skin had turned to steel, his body had its shields up. Nothing, not even the buzz cut's carefully chosen and very insulting words, could pierce through his armor. He felt numb. Thomas' felt numb as a feeling of relief banished the venom from his veins and claimed victory over his tired body.

"I've heard things about you, greenie," the buzz cut continued, his eyes hard, his feet wide apart and his arms crossed over his chest. There was something military about the way he held himself, about his posture, about his words. A tiny light of revelation lit inside Thomas' mind as he connected the dots. "I've heard your own mother sent you here since she couldn't stand looking at your shucking face any longer," the buzz cut continued, stirring up something wicked and grim inside Thomas' chest, something he wished to let out, wished to unleash but managed to control against all odds.

The corridor around them was empty now, and all of a sudden the buzz cut was close, way too close. Thomas could feel Gally's breath on his face, could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. He felt surprised. Surprised that there was warmth in the buzz cut's body, that is was not in fact made purely out of ice. It seemed like Gally's body was warm and human while his heart was hard and made of nothing but ice.

"I don't know why you're here, shuckface, but I do know one thing," the buzz cut paused, purely for effect, to make Thomas sweat some more before delivering his final blow, the killing blow. "I know that you don't belong here. And I will make it my life's mission to kick you out of this school, to force you to return to the hell hole you crawled out from."

"Ye look pale, shuckface," there was a blonde boy sitting on his bed, staring at Thomas. He sighed, feeling the need to be by himself in order to collect his own thoughts and to fully recover from the buzz cut's vicious attack.

"So do you," he sighed again and threw himself on the other bed, on Chuck's bed. The younger boy was still in class.

The blonde boy laughed, and despite the fact that Thomas' body was acing and his skin was burning and his heart was failing and his blood was slowly drying out and his thoughts were running in loops causing mayhem, despite all of this, it felt good to be in the blonde boy's company.

"Was math really that much of a bitch?" slowly, while speaking, Newt removed his light shoes from his feet and threw them to the other end of the room, watching them as they cut the air and landed with a thump. Thomas sighed, yet again. There was finally air in his lungs, not sand and not blood, and he intended to use it while he still had it. Because he had a feeling that the next time he crossed path with the buzz cut, he would not be able to breathe afterwards. So he breathed. With his eyes fixed on the white ceiling, he cherished each breath and enjoyed this small moment of safety. He felt safe with the blond boy at his side, he felt safe in Newt's present.

"I ran into Gally outside the classroom," Thomas finally said, his words tired, his voice flat. He could hear Newt shifting on the other bed, feeling how he had the blonde boy's undivided attention. "He was unpleasant as always, saying how I didn't belong here and how he would make sure I got kicked out."

"That fucking bastard," was Newt's response, one that, much to Thomas' surprise, made him laugh. It felt good, it felt really good to laugh it off. To pretend, if only for a second, that everything was alright, that this was nothing but a sick joke. Newt got the hint, laughed as well as he flipped over to his back once again.

They laughed for a while, for a few breaths, before the air in the room changed once again. The silence that followed was comfortable, a reassuring one. They didn't need to say anything, didn't need to do nothing but to breathe.

Minutes later, Newt broke the silence once again. His voice was lower than before, as if he wasn't really speaking to Thomas but to himself as a way of finally admitting something he'd been trying to suppress for a long time.

"Gally's one big shuckface," he begun saying. Before he continued, he sighed deeply. "He's got one hell of a hold on me as well."

His words barely made their way to Thomas' ears. He could feel his body go rigid, could feel his own heart skip multiple beats in chock and in disbelief. Newt, his friend, the blond haired boy, the boy with the sharpest tongue on earth, the boy with nothing but wicked and mean words in his vocabulary.

Thomas' own body was moving without his mind giving it permission to. Soon, he was sitting upright, his bare feet on the floor, his head held high, his back straight and his eyes on the blonde boy who could not remain on his back more than a few seconds. Soon, they were facing each other, both boys could feel the seriousness in the air, could feel that this was the beginning of something big.

"I don't want to go back," Thomas confessed. His mind was spinning, his heart was racing. He had no idea where _back _actually was, his mind would not yet let him know. What he did know was that he would not let Gally with the buzz cut throw him out of here, no way.

"We don't want you to leave," Newt said, the fact that his sentence contained no curse words made this moment feel even more solemn and even more important.

"I won't let him hurt you," Thomas continued.

Newt didn't answer. His eyes were bright and glued to Thomas' own.

"Let's break him," Thomas said.

"Let's tear him apart," Newt agreed.

Sunday night couldn't come fast enough. This time, the boys would engage in no pointless mayhem. This time, their wicked plans were made to create justice.


	15. problem

Aloha darlings! Here's another chapter, this one containes some _tension _between our favorite pair... Hope you enjoy it, please leave a review if you do (or don't)!

* * *

The uniform felt strange on his body, it felt so wrong and so right at the same time. It felt like a second skin, a second skin he didn't even knew he'd missed. A nervous feeling shook Thomas' bones, made its way through his blood. His breathing was deep, strained even though he hadn't been running, not yet. But he would be, he would be running very soon.

He silently hoped he could, somehow, convince coach to let him run with someone other than Mihno. Argue that he was in need of several different teachers in order to fully learn. He didn't even get the chance to open his mouth, no chance to argue his case, before coach pared him up with the satin boy once again. He said there was no other way – Mihno was the best of them, the team captain, after all.

Mihno wouldn't look at him, much less speak to him. They ran in silence, and they ran fast. Thomas' heart threatened to jump out of his chest, to break his ribs and flee. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he could only run. They made some sharp turns, Mihno mumbled something about how Thomas should be able to recognize his surroundings, but of course Thomas did not. The forest was dark and moist, the air was crisp and the ground hard.

He wanted to talk to the satin boy. He wanted to talk to him so badly, he wanted to… Apologize? Say something to make it good again? Thomas wasn't sure, he had no clue on how to handle this situation.

One part of him was slightly annoyed with Mihno. He hadn't said anything to _really _hurt his feelings, it was a small comment. Mihno should be able to handle it, and besides, hadn't Mihno been just as curious about why Thomas had turned up a few weeks into the term? Hadn't he asked hurtful questions? Honestly, Thomas couldn't quite remember.

As he ran, these questions clawed at the insides of his head, caused mayhem and chaos. In his chest, anger started building up, up, up. He got angrier with every step, his eyes would not leave the other runner's back.

And suddenly, he stopped. Mihno stopped and forced Thomas to make a sharp turn in order to avoid a collision. Mihno stopped, and turned to face him, his eyes hard and his breath heavy. He looked bewildered, he looked mad. His eyes shone, his mouth was nothing but a thin line.

Thomas stayed mad, even though the runner's wicked look was truly startling, truly frightening.

"You really dare being out here with me, you stupid son of a shuck?" Mihno's face was set in stone, it gave away none of his feelings. Only his voice did. His words were laced with poison. "All alone? Aren't you afraid _a criminal like me _will, I don't know, _kill you?"_

"Oh, shut it, it's not like it's a totally stupid assumption," there was poison in Thomas' words as well.

"Really? And how is that, shuckface?"

Thomas snorted, he still wouldn't look away, he kept his eyes on the runner and refused to blink. His eyes hurt, his head pounded and anger still flooded through his veins, made his ears ring.

"It's not like this is a school for _good kids, _right? Half of you are criminals, and the other half got dumped here by their parents, am I right?" the anger was not only in his blood, the anger was in his words as well.

"_You?" _Mihno snorted, his beautiful face tuned into a hard mask, the lines in his face revealed more emotions than ever before, all of them angry and frustrated and mad. "Why not _us?_ Last time I checked, you Thomas, were a part of this school as well. _You _are one of the criminals, one of the kids who was dropped off, _abandoned _by his parents. You, Thomas, are one of us," he was standing close now, very close, his eyes stared right into Thomas' own. Now, Mihno's facial expression was shifting between unreadable and furious.

Thomas' heart stopped. His blood no longer rushed in an abnormal speed. The ringing in his ears disappeared. His anger was washed away, it left his body. All that was left was a deep and poisonous despair. Hopelessness. Pain. He wanted to drop dead. He was so tired. So, so, so tired.

Thomas could no longer hold Mihno's stare, he could no longer look the satin boy in the eyes.

"If I ever want to make this team, we should at least come back with one of those things checked off," Thomas started moving, he heard Mihno sigh deeply behind him.

The forest seemed deeper now. Deeper and scarier, like the place had changed while he and Mihno was arguing.

Thomas felt empty. Frustrated. Tired. All that anger that vanished only seconds ago came back, this time with even more force. It gripped his body and overpowered his mind, forced him to turn around and face the satin boy once again.

"You know what?" he shouted, his voice had risen several octaves, his words echoed between the trees. Mihno stopped, looking slightly amused, his eyebrows raised, his eyes alert. It seemed like the runner's own anger had vanished completely, replaced with this strange amusement. "I don't really care if you are a criminal or not, or what you've done to get thrown into this hellhole, but you are one of the biggest hypocrites I've ever met. You get mad when I call you a criminal, but then you stand here and accuse me of being the same thing?" Thomas was furious. His ears were ringing, his blood was rushing, his mind had ceased to work in any logical way. "You have no right to just _kiss me _like that and then run off and ignore me for days just because of some _stupid comment _I made!"

There it was. The real issue. Thomas was shaking, Mihno was smiling, a small smile was playing in the edge of his mouth. _That bastard was actually smiling. _Thomas wanted to punch that grin off his face, he wanted to punch and claw and run. He did neither. He just stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, his breath heavy and his eyes wild.

"So that's your problem," Mihno breathed. The small smile was still there.

"The real question is," Thomas didn't wait to hear if the runner was going to keep talking. "_What is your problem, shuckface?" _

"Shuckface?" Mihno's smile broadened, he now used both edges of his mouth. "You really are one of us, greenie," he emphasized the last word.

Thomas stayed silent. He was suddenly oh so tired. His body was screaming, his mind was roaring, the anger started to fade even though he wanted it to stay, he wanted to stay angry, to force the satin boy to actually answer his question. But he couldn't. Once again, he felt the anger slip between his fingers and disappear completely. He had no idea why or how his body and mind was acting like this, changing emotions in the blink of an eye, and honestly he had no intention to start an investigation either. Thomas' eyes rested upon Mihno's face but couldn't quite focus. He was so tired. _You really are one of us. _

His own mother had left him here. She'd dumped him here, dumped him here and left in order to live happily ever after with that shuckfaced man of hers.

"Let's get going," Thomas breathed. It was a miracle that Mihno actually heard his words since they lacked power. But without a word, they kept moving. Thomas forced his body into motion and they kept moving. He was so tired. He was so, so, so tired.


	16. nightmare

I am so sorry darlings, I know it's been a long time since I updated. In my defense, I actually haven't been able to: I haven't had a computer in some time. But now I do! This chapter is quite special since it is from Newt's point of view. I hope you like it, and I hope it was worth the wait. I promise you'll get more chapters about Newt point of view, so don't worry about the cryptic ending.  
Enjoy, darlings!

* * *

NEWT:

Burning, burning, burning. His skin was burning. No matter how much he clawed at it, no matter how deep his fingernails cut, he could not stop the fire. He could not stop the pain. He could not get rid of the aching, the burning. His lungs were filled with smoke, he could feel himself slowly suffocating, overpowered by that black, grey, warm, smoke. He was burning, his body was on fire, and his lungs were no longer functioning. This would be the end of him. This fire.

A hand on his shoulder, a cold hand, a hand made of water, a hand made of holy water. A blessing, the only cure. A hand on his shoulder, gripping tight, slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, putting out the fire on his skin, withdrawing the black smoke from his lungs and once again filling them with pure air. Seconds passed, minutes passed. He could breathe again, no longer sucking in air in short painful gasps, but actually breathing in a more steady pace.

"You've got to wake up, Newt," the voice belonging to the hand said. It was close, close to his ear, close to his face, close to him. He liked that voice. It was a deep one, one that could reach down into the black hole Newt was currently at the bottom of and grab a hold of him, bring him back to the surface, bring him back to reality.

Newt hated him for that, at the same time as he felt unable to feel any emotion other than _excitement _next to this boy.

So he did. He woke up, because the voice had once again saved him from the burning, from the smoke, from the dying. Like so many times before, Newt opened his eyes and stared into a pair of brown ones. Slightly worried, but mostly just caring and loving. There was, as always, a hint of confusion in those eyes as well, as if the boy with the voice could not quite understand how or why he felt those feelings towards Newt.

"You were dreaming again," the voice said, hiding the concern underneath a thick layer of kindness and matter-of-fact.

The voice belonged to those brown eyes. Those brown eyes belonged to a dark-skinned body, the body of a boy currently laying on his side in Newt's own bed. Alby's back was against the wall, his head popped up on his hand, his other hand resting close to Newt's shoulder as if he'd recently used it to shake life into Newt's body.

Newt was on his back, his eyes locked on the white sealing, his chest heaving and sinking in a slow, slow, slow pace, indicating that his body was slowly returning to normal again.

"What was it this time?" Alby asked and touched Newt's shoulder.

Newt hated this. He hated that Alby had this calming effect on him, he hated that he liked it, he hated that he needed it. He needed this. He needed him. Alby.

His body remained still, his breathing slower than normal, his eyes unblinking. "Fire and smoke," he answered, his voice thick from sleep.

They'd done this before, so many times. Falling to sleep together, Newt having one of his bloody nightmares, Alby waking him up, Newt refusing to discuss his dreams with more than one short sentence. Newt was fully aware of how frustrated Alby got every time. Of how he so desperately wanted to help, to make it all right. Newt was also fully aware of how it was nothing Alby could do. He could not "save" him, not make it all right. And honestly, Newt didn't want him to either. He wasn't in need of a savior. He was in need of a pair of lips on his own and a great deal of distraction in order to, if only for a couple of hours, forget about the dream and the reality that waited outside his bedroom door.

So Newt turned, moved closer to the boy next to him, so they were now lying face to face. Alby seemed tired, tired from all the guessing, from all the times he'd tried to save Newt but failed. Of course, he wasn't really aware of the fact that he would continue to fail, and that Newt was okay with that.

Newt placed one light kiss on Alby's lips, one light kiss and then a slight pause, as if waiting for permission. When Alby didn't move, Newt spoke. Softly, quietly. "You can't save me," he said, his voice flat and without any major emotions hidden in-between the words.

"I want to," Alby whispered, now slightly frustrated.

Newt sighed, and kissed the other boy again, this time a little longer. "I don't need no hero," he then said, speaking from his heart for the first time in so long.

Alby remained silent, even though he clearly wanted to speak. But there were no words that could fix this, there were no words that could fix Newt. No spell, no potion, nothing but Newt himself. Alby seemed to accept this fact, at least for this moment, because instead of speaking, he moved closer to the blonde boy and placed a kiss on his lips. This time, there was no pause, no more asking for permission, no more talking. This time, it was lips upon lips, tongue against tongue, Newt's breath mixing with Alby's breath.

They moved as if synchronized, they moved like they had so many times before. Their bodies pressing against each other, quiet yet loud, slowly yet hurried, carefully yet recklessly.

Once again, Newt's blood was running wild, his heart fighting to keep up with the pace. Only this time, he embraced it. He needed it, he wanted it. His body was aching, not for closeness, but for Alby. He wanted this boy, he needed this boy. It was scary and thrilling and everything in-between at the same time.

They were no longer lying next to each other on the bed. Alby was on his back, Newt on top of him, kissing every area he could reach, every area of Alby's body that was not covered by clothing. When this got to difficult, they both removed every inch of fabric separating their skin.

When things slowed down, when their bodies slowed down, when desire was replaced with tiredness, when sleep had once again overpowered at least one of the boys, Newt was on his side facing the rest of the room. There was a pair of arms locked around his waist, as if they made sure he wouldn't get up and disappear into the night.

It was in this moment Newt finally allowed himself to dwell on the dream, to think about it, discuss it with himself. The fire, the smoke, the pain, it was nothing new. It was as familiar as the curve of Alby's lips, a pair he'd been exploring for some time now.

The fire, the smoke, the pain, they all represented something else, a fact Newt knew by now. At first, he'd spent weeks without sleep, slowly going mad when trying to figure out why he kept dying every night, over and over and over. Now he knew. He knew that the fire on his skin represented the looks, the words, everything that had been, and still was to some extent, thrown at his body. The smoke, the suffocating, he refused to dwell at. Not yet, not yet, not at this time. He wasn't ready yet, not ready to face the reason he was at this school.

The pain, then. The pain was real. The pain was no metaphor, the pain was pain and it was real.

It took some time, but finally Newt locked every single thought out of his head and concentrated on Alby's steady breathing instead. Finally, Newt fell asleep. And this time, he didn't dream. Because this time, there was a new kind of determination inside of him, a new kind of knowledge. Because now, Newt knew how to kill that fire, once and for all.


	17. squad

Well, here we go again darlings. Another chapter. This one is slightly longer, maybe because I feel bad. I suck at updating, I know, and I'm sorry. So I hope y'all enjoy this one! You will notice that this chapter is inspired by John Green's book/movie Paper Towns, sorry not sorry.

Enjoy darlings!

(I do not own TMR. And I don't own one certain event in this chapter, which belongs to John Green/Paper Towns)

* * *

THOMAS:

Sun-day. Sunday. It sure as hell didn't feel like a Sun-day. Maybe because it simply wasn't. It simply wasn't sunny. Maybe because the sun, the one huge burning ball making life on this planet possible, was connected to Thomas' own feelings. At least that's how he felt that Sunday. Sometimes, one is in great need of bad weather, because when the weather is good one feels forced to match that good weather with a good mood. But when the weather is bad, one can be in a bad mood and nobody will question you. This particular Sunday, the sun was perhaps connected to all boys attending this wicked school. Maybe she, the sun that is, could feel how much every boy in this building was in great need of some bad weather. Well, every boy except one.

It was one hour before dinnertime when the door to Thomas' room bust open and revealed one heavy-breathing blonde boy, looking both annoyed and thrilled and excited at the same time, a look only he could pull off without totally breaking the lines in his face.

"Get up, ye sorry son of a shuck," Newt said and kicked the end of the bed where Thomas was currently lying – staring up in the sealing, trying not to think or feel. It was one of those days. If Newt should ask, Thomas would without hesitation blame the bad weather. The dark sky, the strong winds and the occasional heavy raining.

It had been going on since that morning, the sky being grey and the winds being strong and the rain pouring down on them for an hour or so, pausing for a few minutes – just enough for a person to start believing that the sky was actually out of water – and then beginning once again.

"Why?" Thomas asked, not in the mood for either getting up or having a conversation. He wasn't even in the mood for looking at another person, and especially not someone as cheery as Newt seemed to be today.

"We've got plans to make and bastards to prank," Newt answered and kicked the bed again. Only this time, he didn't aim for the end of the bed, he aimed for Thomas' calf. Which he, of course, hit. Thomas turned around, even more annoyed since his leg was now hurting, and stared at Newt. There was something fascinating in his eyes, something Thomas had only seen once before in those very eyes. This shuck was up for a little hunting. Mischief and chaos, totally prepared for one thing: the destruction of the most wicked bully this place had ever seen. Thomas could not help but feel a little fired up, even though he really didn't want to – it was easier to just burry his head in the pillow and feel sorry for himself. But, that small fire in his chest seemed to grow bigger and bigger for every breath he took, and after a few seconds, Newt must have seen the change in him, because his face relaxed and his mouth performed something close to a sly smile. Thomas sat up on the bed and took the hand Newt offered him.

"Prepare to cause some mother shuckin' mayhem," Newt said, his smile now wider.

"We're gonna shut that son of a shuckface up, once and for all," Thomas answered, now filled with a new found energy. His ears were roaring, his heart beating faster and faster as adrenalin made its way through his body. This was not a Sun-day. It was not a Sunday either. This was Making-Gally-Pay-Day. This was the day they had all been waiting for. This was _D-day. _

"This is D-day," Newt said, slowly pacing before them, his head bowed, his hands clasped behind his slightly hunched back.  
In a matter of seconds, Newt had managed to get the whole group gathered. As it turned out, last Sunday, the one where Thomas had for the first time been introduced to the mayhem squad, some of the members had been resting. Because the mayhem squad was not made up by three people only, which made Thomas feel slightly relieved since that meant that he was not alone with only Newt, Alby and Mihno.

They were outside, gathered on the grass behind one of the slightly larger sheds on the yard. Thomas had his back against the warm wood, his legs stretched out behind him, his right hand shielding his eyes from the sun as he kept his glance fixed on Newt's pacing figure.

They were an excited bunch, all of them. Six in total, counting both Newt and Thomas himself. All of them were sitting with their backs against that warm wood and their eyes fixed on Newt's pacing figure, their ears focused on the sound of his voice. He was not a natural leader, they all knew that was Alby. But this once, Alby was not the one in charge. There was a fire burning in Newt, it burned so bright and so fierce, all of those boys, all five of them, had a hard time breathing.

There was six of them, counting both Newt and Thomas himself. It was Alby, only almost covering how proud he was over his friend. There were Frypan and Winston, the only two members who hadn't been on their last mission. Both of them seemed pumped, excited, ready. And then there was Mihno, sitting as far away from Thomas as possible, a fact Thomas tried to not dwell upon. Instead, as the sixth member of the mayhem squad, he tried to stay extra focused on Newt, and the words that were currently falling over his lips.

"Okay, y'all, it is time," he said. He stood still now. He was so still. Not moving a muscle, nothing but his eyes that were darting from face to face. Oh, those faces – so young, so excited, so full of vengeance and a sense that they were doing the right thing. They were the good guys, this was them saving this school. This was them being superheroes. "It is time to shut that son of a shuck up, once and for all," Newt said, his face remained serious as several of the boy's in front of him started to grin. Thomas kept his face stern as well, his expression revealing nothing but great concentration and excitement. Because he was excited, oh so excited he was. This was justice, and he knew it. He felt it in his heart.

"Mihno and me'self came up with quite a plan yesterday," Newt continued. Thomas could sense the smile on Mihno's face. "It is one in several stages, the first one taking place today."

"Come on, man, you can't keep us waiting anymore, just tell us," Frypan said, bursting with excitement. Thomas shared his feelings, wishing that Newt could hurry up with the telling part.

"Slim it, shuckface," Newt said before he granted their only wish. "Stage one: we shave Gally's eyebrows off."

They all stayed silent, for one second only before bursting out. Bursting out a loud laugh, all of them at the same time.

"Man, you serious?" Frypan spoke up again, once he was able to regain his breath.

"And then some," Newt smiled, causing them all to burst out laughing once again.

"Our plan is simple," Alby said, standing up as well and taking place next to Newt, next to his second in command. Even though the leader hadn't been one of the two who came up with the plan, he still knew it by heart. He was their true leader, after all. Thomas guessed that all plans went through him before the rest of the squad were informed.

He had everybody's attention.

"We'll do like this…"

"You ready?" a voice said from his left side, the one that was no currently leaning against one of the walls in the second floor bathroom. The clock had struck one in the morning, and this was the safest place they could come up with. Thomas leaned against one of the walls and observed the scene taking place before him, he watched as the rest of the squad preparing for their most well-planned act of mischief they'd ever done. They were all there, everyone except Alby who had already set their plan in movement. Thomas had no details of his part in all of this, but he knew two things: 1, Alby played an important role in all this and 2, there was no turning back now. They were really doing this.

Slowly, Thomas turned his head towards the voice, towards the blonde boy. "I think so," he answered, trying to hide the battle currently taking place inside of him.

He wanted this. He really did. This was his justice, this was him being a superhero and defeating the villain. Well, that's what he was repeatedly telling himself, trying to suffocate the small voice trying to tell him that this would not bring him peace. Talking to Newt helped him drown that voice.

"You better know so, ye shuckhead. We're not playing around no more," Newt said, his voice slightly lower than usual. Before them, the scene seemed frozen – everyone stood still, staring at the two of them. It was a perplexing sight, all of them dressed in black pants, black hoodies, with their faces painted with black streaks. They looked like statues of ninjas. The only thing that gave them away was their breathing.

"All ready?" Newt said, slightly louder.

"You bet," Winston said.

"Let's take that mother shucker down," Mihno said, making Thomas' heart grow in his chest.

Thomas was alone with Mihno, once again. They walked together, Mihno in the lead and Thomas close behind him, just as they did in the forest. But this time, no runner's outfit clung to their bodies and their shoes remained in their rooms to drown out the noise of their feet hitting the floor. They moved quickly and quietly. In front of him, Mihno's back moved, him being as graceful as a cat. Thomas wanted to stab himself in the stomach only to kill the longing that overpowered him, the longing that seemed to come from his stomach. He wanted to reach out, he wanted to run his fingers along Mihno's long spine, to feel his muscles underneath the palm of his own hand, feel the warmth of the runner's skin.

In this moment, he could not be distracted. He could not allow such thoughts to enter his head, much less could he allow them to stay. He needed to stay focused. So Thomas banished those thoughts from his head and fought to regain focus.

The two of them, Thomas and Mihno, they were both the main attraction and the distraction at the same time. If the two of them failed, their whole plan would go down the drain. A nervous prickle made its way down Thomas' spine.

They had stopped now, the door to Gally's room slightly ajar. Alby's doing, Thomas guessed. Mihno turned slightly, looking Thomas in the eye, wearing a devious grin as he motioned for Thomas to turn around. Once Mihno had emptied the pack on Thomas back, he turned towards the dark room again, using his foot to force the door open even more.

The dull light from the hallway gave Thomas enough light to investigate the scene before him. Gally was sound asleep in his bed, luckily on his back. The other bed was empty, surely Alby's doing.

Behind him, Mihno was standing guard in the doorway, careful not to block out the light Thomas so desperately needed. There was a strange jar in Thomas' hand, a strip of paper in the other. Wax. This was going to hurt, he was sure of it.

Everything seemed to move in slow-motion. His hands trembled slightly as he, as carefully as possible, applied the wax to both of Gally's eyebrows with one eye on the boy's chest. No movement, no change in the bully's breathing. With one look over his own shoulder, only to receive some strength from the boy in the doorway, Thomas pulled. Hard.


	18. mischief

Aloha darlings!

It feels like forever since I last updated. I guess it kind of is, and I'm really sorry! I wish I could promise you guys another chapter real soon, but I can't. Due to a lot of things, I haven't really been able to find time for writing. But I do promise that I shall try to upload a new chapter in the near future! Until then: enjoy chapter 18, and I would be really glad if you left a review when you're done reading. Enjoy!

* * *

**ALBY:**

It was close to impossible to control his breathing, to keep every breath steady, to not draw in breaths like his life depended on it. Because frankly, it didn't. He was, on the other hand, so nervous it felt like he could actually die at any moment now.

It was equally impossible to keep his hands from shaking, no matter how many times he cursed under his breath, no matter how many times he begged them to stop trembling.

The kitchen was quiet, not surprising at all given that the clock had only recently passed midnight. The cafeteria looked spooky, all grey moonlight and all, casting long shadows. It was creepy how still everything was, especially since this place usually was one where quiet, peace and calm was so unwelcome. Chaos and mayhem ruled these grounds, at least during the day. At night, Alby now realized, things were really different. Every breath he took seemed to echo, every step he took could wake a sleeping giant.

Even thought the grey moonlight shining in through the high windows was indeed extremely creepy, he was still grateful since it made his hunt much easier.

He didn't have much time.

Luckily, it was easy to locate the right refrigerator, the only difficult thing now was to remove all the containers and replace them with the fake ones, the ones that was currently cutting into his back through the fabric of his backpack.

This part of the plan was entirely his own making, and he was proud of it. There was a sly smile on his face as he quickly emptied the refrigerator and replaced the containers with his own. It was crazy that they had actually managed this in so few hours, but the mayhem squad certainly knew how to work as a team and how to really step up when necessary.

The sly smile turned into a huge grin as he closed the first refrigerator and started looking around for the other one. This part was trickier and needed more time, time he wasn't so sure that he had. Alby drew in one deep breath and got to work, methodically, quickly and yet extremely carefully. The key is to not leave any evidence behind. That is unless it is the right kind of evidence. He smiled again, wickedly this time.

The clock struck one as Alby exited the kitchen. He left no evidence behind, nothing at all - except one strategically placed black hoodie, one the real prankster easily could have shrugged of as he worked, and easily forgotten.

**CHUCH:**

Chuck wasn't sure how he got involved since the older boys never told him anything about their pranks. He usually found out about them in the morning, along with everybody else. It never really bothered him not to be a part of the mayhem, since that mean he never had to worry about getting caught.

But now. Now, he was involved. Thomas had promised that he wouldn't get into any trouble - more like the opposite, at the same time that he assured him that Chuck's part in this whole mission was a vital one.

Chuck felt important as he made his way down the hall towards where the teachers had their rooms. Of course, not all of them stayed over, only regulars like the Griever and Mr. Grossman and such. And it was the latter Chuck was supposed to wake up. At one o'clock in the morning.

He had to admit that he was confused. How could this be a vital part, anyways? To tell Mr. Grossman about the prank? But Thomas had refused to answer any of Chuck's questions, merely promised him that everything would make sense in the morning. As always.

The mission assigned to him was simple enough: Wake up Mr. Grossman at 10 minutes past 1 in the morning. And whatever happens, do not wake the Griever.

Chuck didn't really care about not knowing, about not really being a part of the gang. Because as of this moment, he had a vital task to do. A vital task assigned to him. He felt important as he knocked heavily on the thick wooden door that belonged to their principal.

"Well... Won't you look at this," there was suddenly another body in the corridor with him, another body awake at this hour. As Chuck turned, he stood face to face with the only person he had been instructed to absolutely not involve. Before him in the dimly lit hallway, stood the Griever. And he looked very happy, which was extremely unsettling.

**NEWT**:

Newt watched them as they slipped into the dull light of the hallway leading towards the boys rooms. He watched them for as long as he could, for as long as he dared before he would endanger his own mission. As he now stood before this task, he did admit that their planning could have been slightly better, but that was not a thought to dwell upon at this point. Instead, he changed the lines in his face, no longer could anyone detect any worry or doubt in his features. There was only determination and mischief and longing for the taste of sweet, sweet mayhem written on the skin of his face. He wanted this. Needed it. This revenge was his.

The other boys looked at him, the same hunger in their eyes. They had a lot of work to do, and no time to waste. Quickly, he emptied his backpack and let the metallic cans roll across the floor for effect. He felt high. His head was buzzing, his heart beating like crazy. He felt high indeed.

The wall seemed to speak to them, beg them to start working on it. So they did. With one last confirming nod from Newt, all of them raised their cans and started to spray paint the wall before them. This time, unlike last sunday, the wall would not look sweet or funny or innocent. This was no innocent prank, this was the start of a war. This was operation freedom from Gally's oppression, this was operation kill the bully. There was nothing innocent or sweet about that.

They worked in silence, guided each other by simple grunts or by pointing, small nudges with elbows. Black gloves covered their fingers, each of them was very careful. The key was to not leave any evidence upon themselves, minimize the risk of getting caught and making sure this would get pinned on the right person.

Newt watched Winston put the finishing touch upon their masterpiece as he heard running steps in the hallway. Just in time, exactly as they had planned.

**THOMAS**:

He didn't run. Against all of his instincts, against all better judgement, he didn't run. Instead, he backed away slowly, witnessing the scene taking place before him.

Gally looked like a wild animal as he flew up from his bed, his eyes wide, his mouth open and screaming, his arms stretched wide. A jolt of true and actual terror shot through Thomas' body as Gally laid eyes on him. He breathed fast yet deep, not controlling his anger but merely restraining it as he let one of his big hands travel to his face and to the strip of skin that was now bright red and surely burning. As his fingers made contact with the now hairless area, his whole face changed into a mask of true anger and wild desire for revenge.

And yet, Thomas didn't move. He knew he had to wait until the exact moment before he turned tail and ran for his life. He felt nervous, yet so truly alive. Was this really how heroes felt? Or maybe he was supposed to have stopped before the deed, maybe he should've gotten some revelation of how he didn't need revenge in order to live a full life?

Right now, nothing of that mattered. It didn't matter if Thomas was a hero or a villain. Because nothing could compare to the feeling that spread through his body as a look of rabid anger and uncontrollable rage settled upon Gally's eyebrow-less face.

"You..." Gally breathed. Thomas managed a sly smile before he answered with what he imagined was a cocky tone. "Me," was all he said before he turned tail and ran.

Thomas didn't have to turn around in order to know that Gally had followed him, because his heavy steps and loud breathing echoed between the walls. The bully was fast, much faster than Thomas had predicted, but not a problem for his skilled feet.

Everything should be prepared by now, the others should be ready. They had to be.

Thomas hoped that he had bought Mihno enough time to prepare the next vital step of the plan. He could do nothing about it now, nothing but hope as he ran for his life, or at least his well-being.

The hallway seemed to never end. It felt like hours before he finally reached the clearing, before he finally tumbled into the small common room of theirs.

Mihno was waiting. He was prepared. Thomas had his back to it when it happened, and when he turned around again, Gally's white shirt was smeared with paint. Thomas felt like laughing.

Mihno was at his side, Gally eyed them both with great suspicion, one that made Thomas' nervous. What if he saw through them? In the end, it seemed like irrational anger won the fight, because before Thomas had any chance to exchange one worried look with the boy at this side, Gally roared and charged for them yet again. They turned as quickly as they could and kept on running.

There were some shadows down the hall, running as well, but not towards the scene of the crime as Thomas currently was, but away from it, exactly as they had planned.

He could not believe that this was actually working out. At least so far. There was the grande finale left, and a minor but yet important event before that as well.

As they reached the spot in front of their chosen wall, both Thomas and Mihno stopped abruptly. Gally stopped as well, eyes on the two runners and not on the wall directly beside him. Neither Thomas had any time to inspect the scene, he kept his eyes glued on the bully opposite of him.

"Did ye really believe ye could get away?" Gally was panting, his breathing heavy, his chest heaving and sinking in a rapid pace that looked slightly painful. Even Thomas was out of breath.

"No, you klunkhead. We know that we're getting away," Mihno answered cryptically. A wrinkle of confusion appeared between Gally's eyebrows. He didn't even hear Newt as he emerged from the shadows, carrying one of the metallic cans in his hand. This part of the prank was cheep, very cheep indeed, but what to do?

Mihno and Thomas turned and ran as Newt swiped the can in a perfect arch in front of Gally's face, covering his eyes with white paint in the process. They could hear Chuch from the stariwell, talking in a hushed yet hurried voice with someone Thomas hoped was Mr. Grossman.

He took one last look at his friends, wicked grins decorating their faces, as he made a sharp right turn. They had all agreed it would be best if they split up on the way to their meeting-spot.

Thomas felt like laughing. This was his revenge, this was all of their revenges, and they had succeeded! They had pulled off an impossible prank, and gotten away with it! He momentarily closed his eyes as he ran, a strong surge of wicked adrenaline pulsing though his veins.

He didn't see the Griever appearing from the shadows at the end of the hall until it was much too late.


	19. aftermath

Aloha darlings! Oh, my, it's been a long time since I updated... But here you have a chapter! And since schools out for the summer and I've finally invested in a computer - I will be posting some chapters in the near future. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

THOMAS:

"Well..." he truly had a wicked smile, that Griever.

Thomas was breathing hard, not really sure if it was the running or the adrenaline from the prank or from the scare he got when their maniac janitor appeared from the shadows. Maybe it was a mixture of all three, because his heart was beating _so fucking hard. _

He wanted to punch that smile away, to push the Griever aside and just keep running. He felt defeated, yet strangely on edge - ready for anything despite it all. Ready to run, to hide, to fight. He really didn't want to get into anymore trouble, though.

They had been so close! The ultimate prank, everything had gone exactly like they planned it, except for this. Nobody had expected the Griever to show up. Not like this.

"I heard there was some sort of chaos going on up here. Thought I might find you in the middle of it all."

A confused wrinkle appeared in between Thomas' eyebrows. He felt harassed, to be honest.

"What," even more confusion coated his words. "You don't even know me. I've only been here for a week and not made anything wrong. Why accuse me? You don't know me at all."

"But I do know you," he smiled once again. "I know your type." He was so utterly satisfied, it scared Thomas. It scared him more than being jumped in a dark and empty hallway.

"My type?" he echoed, his thoughts racing. There had to be a way out of this. He couldn't let it end this way!

The Griever was positioned right in front of him, right in the middle of the corridor, wicked smile on his old chapped lips, hands twisting in a horrifying way, mouth shaping ugly words. Thomas felt sick. Sick and trapped. If he turned, he would run straight into the scene of the crime, surely collide with Mr Grossman. And there was no chance of charging past the Griever. Thomas was indeed a quick bastard, to use Mihno's words, but not even he could get past this aggravated janitor. Thomas had never seen the Griever like this. Never so on edge, never so hyper, so alive. It sent chills down to the bone, to the deepest part of Thomas' soul.

"You believe there are no other people in this world, not that matters anyways. The sound of your laughter will haunt me 'til my dying breath, you hear me?"  
Thomas felt truly shocked by not only his words, but the tone of his voice. Hatred coated his words, thick and poisonous. No words dared escape his mouth, no breath dared enter his throat. "It is such a joyful moment every time a boy leaves this place," the laughter that came from the Griever sent chills down Thomas' spine, if he hadn't already been frozen in one place, he surely was now. He felt connected to the ground, as if his feet were three trunks with roots that traveled all the way down to the very foundation of this old building. The Griever kept talking, kept letting poisonous and deceiving words of his own wicked making tumble out into the now ice cold air between them. Thomas was almost shaking. "It makes my heart sing! Watching all of those little birds leave the nest for the first time, believing they will fly with the wings they've built of mischief and lies and teenage sexual frustration. Fools! All of you! Because those wings never hold. It is my only moment of joy, watching all of those boys fall towards the ground, confusion written in their faces. And when they crash and burn?" He gave another laugh. "It suits you right."

Thomas struggled visibly to once again find his ability to speak. He felt lost, cold, chocked. Terrified. Who was this man? The boys had indeed warned him, said the Griever was a devious creature, but this? He looked like a madman. Standing in the poorly lit corridor in the middle of the night, shadows dancing over his face, deepening every line in his old face. He seemed restless, kept pacing the small area in front of Thomas, once in a while stopping to stare straight into the boy's soul for effect.

And Thomas had always described himself as fearless.

"Why?" he said, slightly surprised as his voice once again proved him faithful. "Why do you hate us so much?" He should make a run for it. He should just run for his life, leave the Griever to self destruct. To be eaten alive by his own hatred. Surely it would happen, if only Thomas could turn and run. Because turning was his best option. Even though he had completely lost track of time, was it only minutes that had passed since he felt the crime scene or was it hours? Despite of this, he felt sure the headmaster would have taken Gally to his office by now. Or maybe sent him to bed with a promise to deal with him at first light instead. He should turn and run, he really should. But something kept him rooted to the ground. He cursed that something.

The Griever stared him with a mixture of hatred and disbelief in his clouded grey eyes.

"Why?" he echoed. Then laughed again. Thomas silently damned that laugh, wished it out of existence. "You boys have made my life a living hell. You think I don't know what's going on here? Every Sunday night, you devils create another mess for me to clean up. You never care for anybody but yourselves! Fools!"  
The Griever moved so fast, Thomas had no time to react. Suddenly, a thin hand had closed around Thomas' upper arm. He felt, once again, cold all over.

The Griever started to walk. Started to pull Thomas after him, deeper down the dark corridor. Not towards the main stairs that would eventually take them to Mr Grossmans office, but deeper into the building. They took a right, and Thomas soon realized that this was a part of the building he had not yet visited.

"Where are you taking me?" he struggled against the Grievers grip, without any success. He was indeed strong, for such an old man.

The janitor had gone mute, refusing to tell his prisoner the location of the dungeon.

"What the hell are you doing?" Thomas screamed, hoping that the boys in the mayhem squad would have realized by now that he had not made it back and gone to look for him.

"No point in screaming," the Griever said and came to a sudden halt in front of a door Thomas had never seen. It was dark wood, but unlike the rest of the doors in the school building, apart from the dormitories, this one had no glass window one could peak through. It didn't have any markings on it, either. No sign indicating what was hiding behind it. And when the Griever unlocked it with a key from his gigantic keychain and threw the door open, Thomas could see nothing but darkness inside.

He refused. He willed his feet frozen in place once again, bracing himself for a verbal conflict. But the Griever said nothing. Instead, when he saw Thomas' refusal, he tightened his grip on the boys upper arm and threw him into the darkness. Thomas didn't even have time to scream.


	20. hell

Aloha darlings!

It is, after all, on my summer bucketlist to update this fanfiction as often as I can. So here you go! Another chapter!

* * *

**MINHO:**

"Did you _see _his face?" Triumphant words echoed between the bathroom walls. They were once again gathered between toilet stalls and sinks. It didn't matter. This was their castle. They were kings. Kings!

Alby let out a roar when he entered the bathroom. One after one, they charged through the door. All of the boys in the mayhem squad kept their heads high, their shouts loud and their eyes burning.

Alby threw one arm around Minho's shoulders and squeezed. He'd never felt so alive.

"We did it!" he screamed, every syllable drenched in sweet, sweet, excitement.

The boys were roaring with glee, with joy, with triumph, with success. They were drunk on their deeds, they were kings, they were invincible. Who could kill them now? _No one, _Minho thought and allowed a broad smile to split his face in two, _not a single soul. _

"Keep this up and we'll get hanged by dawn, ye loud shanks," Newt entered the room, his face unsmiling and authoritative but his eyes had the same mischievous shine as the other boys.

In a single smooth movement, Alby had pulled his arm from Minho's shoulders and put it, and his other arm as well, around the blonde boy's neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Save it for the bedroom, boys," Minho said with a laugh. Alby released a slightly red faced Newt and turned towards the rest of the group.

"As much as I would like to continue shouting and screaming and celebrating," the rest of the boys hade gone quiet and directed all of their attention to Alby. "I have to admit that Newt's got a point. We did it guys, let's not throw it away by waking up the rest of the student body and raising suspicion," he smiled when he said it, his eyes meeting every other pair in the room, one by one. Kings! Kings could behave.

Alby continued talking, now letting his eyes stay focused on the boy whom he were addressing.

"So, I'll start," he said, leaning against the door frame of the closed door. The other boys were gathered in front of him, Minho found himself standing next to Newt, both of them leaning against the same toilet stall door. "Everything went as planned," he dropped a backpack to the floor, one Minho hadn't noticed before. "In this bag, fellow members of this truly wicked mayhem squad, you'll find four containers of apple juice," he allowed them to be loud at this statement, their cheers rose to the roof and illuminated the air. "And in the downstairs kitchen, there are four containers of something that is _not _apple juice," Minho gave a quiet laugh. "And also one strategically placed black hoodie, curtesy of one bully named Gally."

The boys were on fire. Adrenaline burned every vein in their bodies, illuminated their eyes and made their hearts beat even quicker. They truly were kings. Kings of the night. Kings of this school. Wicked kings.

"Newt," Alby said and directed his eyes towards the blonde boy next to Minho. "How did your team do?"

"Well," Newt said, a huge smile splitting his face in two. "Ye all saw it on the wall, didn't ye? Quite a masterpiece, I dare say," the other boys laughed loud at this. "I think we managed to capture the essence of the Griever's sould, don't ye think?"

Minho had do admit, the painting on the wall truly was mindblowing. One could tell that it was the Griever, the janitor, even thought they'd taken some liberties. He truly was a huge, slimy spider, that janitor of theirs. Their artwork did do him justice.

"And Minho," Alby moved his stare to Minho, waiting for him to give a rapport on his mission. The mission him and Thomas had done.

Things seemed to happen all at once. Because the second Alby said those words, Minho realized that they were one member short. Two, actually. The other boys seemed to notice this as well, with wild eyes they started looking around in the bathroom, but quickly stopped as the door Alby leaned to suddenly burst open and a small figure with brown curls raging on his head stepped into the dimly lit room.

Chuck. One of the two missing people.

_Where the fuck is Thomas?  
_

Minho tried to keep those words for himself, but soon realized that he'd failed miserably at this task when all eyes suddenly were on him. The words that he'd ment to keep in his own head had somehow escaped his mouth.

He was staring at the boy in the doorway, fire in his eyes, a different sort of fire, not a young and proud and invincible one, but a fire threatening to consume him. One that actually hurt.

"I swear, I didn't do anything!" Chuck was out of breath, he must have been running all the way over here. "I did what you told me, he just sneaked up on me!"

Alby was by the boy's side in a second, his hand resting on Chuck's shoulder, eyes concerned. Minho didn't feel concern for the younger boy, he felt restless. Restless and angry and something close to worry. He felt like his skin couldn't hold these emotions for much longer. He might burst any second now.

"Who did?" Newt asked. He'd pushed off the stall door and taken a step closer to both Minho and Chuck. Minho had a feeling Newt wanted to be close to him, if he'd do something stupid.

"I knocked on Mr. Grossmans door, just as you told me to, and when I turned around he just stood there!" Chuck looked terrified, as if he was reliving the scariest moment of his life right there and then before their eyes. Minho felt a slight sting of compassion in the middle of his anger. He knew it was illogical to be mad at the younger boy, he hadn't done anything. He just needed to direct his anger towards something or someone, or else he might explode. "He said he'd heard the chaos, that it'd awoken him, and he knew you guys had something to do with it, and then he disappeared the exact moment that Mr. Grossman opened the door, and I don't know where he went," Chuck was shaking now. Poor thing. Minho redirected his anger, focused fully on the Griever instead. Thomas wasn't among them and the Griever was on the loose, there had to be a connection.

"Do you think the Griever might have Thomas?" Frypan said, stepping closer to where Alby was now comforting Chuck, one arm thrown over his chubby shoulders. Newt looked concerned, Minho figured he himself must look terrifying. Where had his pokerface gone? His coolness? He swore loudly. Newt joined him.

"It looks like it," Alby said, his eyes empty and tired and raging. With one swift motion, he seemed to be really good at those, he let go of Chuck and took place in the middle of the room. As if everybody wasn't already looking at him and only him. "Okay, first things first:" he had a hand draped over his chin and mouth for effect. "Do we know where the Griever might have taken him?"

Minho spoke without thinking.

"Hell," he said.

Nobody protested. They all knew what he meant. They'd been through a situation like this last year. One Minho had tried to not remember, tried to forget. As well as the other boys in the mayhem squad.

"How do we get 'im out?" Newt said. "Surely 'e must've changed the buggin' locks an' everything after last time."

Newt was right. Alby looked concerned. Minho didn't.

"We just have to be smarter than last time, boys." They were kings, after all.

**THOMAS:**

Darkness. Complete and suffocating darkness. It was everywhere. It had only taken a few seconds for it to start invading his body. He could feel the darkness in his blood, in his lungs. With every breath, with every heartbeat.

Where was he?

The darkness was blinding. Deadly. He knew he had to push through it. That the only way to survive this was to get his shit together. Deep down, in the sensible part of his brain, he knew this room couldn't be deadly, right? The janitor was indeed a sick bastard, but he wasn't capable of killing a student! Right?

"Fuck," Thomas said as a prickle of fear ran down his spine. "_Fuck." _


End file.
